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atinylittlepain · 11 months

Text

Crush On You

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

The summer of '86, a season of love, record-breaking heat, and evening softball games in one Austin neighborhood. What happens when seventeen years later, that lost love comes back around?

warnings | 18+ cursing, smut, young joel is a goddamn menace

wordcount | 9K

a/n | hi folks, i come bearing part two of my hungry hearts series. she's long, okay? i'm sorry, the spirit of young joel possessed me what can i say. hope y'all enjoy this one, come tell me what you think in my inbox! also much love, much thanks to my trenchcoat brother @northernbluess for beta-reading this baby - love you, cousin

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“Well, well, look who has graced us with her presence. How’d you scare her out of hiding, Miller?”

“Oh, you know, black mail, extortion, a cattle prod.” Her scowl is lost on the pair as Mikey Donahue pulls Joel into a hug that’s more of a gruff back slap than anything else before promptly putting a beer in his hand. Meanwhile, she’s already regretting her decision to come along, trying to temper her grimace when Mikey hooks his arm around her shoulders to crush her into his side, grinning big and boozy down at her.

“Good to see you, big city. College suits you.” She has to laugh, seeing as Mikey didn’t have the time of day for her in high school and now he seems to be all too intent on laying the charm on thick.

“Thanks, Mikey, that’s real, uh, kind of you.” Before Mikey can reply with what she’s sure would be an equally charming remark, Joel curls his fingers in the neck of his t-shirt to pry him away from her, steering him further into the house.

“Alright, Mike, don’t scare her off, I just got her in the door. C’mon, man, I was promised a keg stand here.” All she gets from Joel is one more glance over his shoulder before she has been left entirely alone in a sea of her old classmates, with quite literally no escape route, considering she drove here in Joel’s rusted-out pick-up truck.

She fields a few polite hellos, trying her best to move through the house as unnoticed as possible to get to the backyard and away from the smell of sweat and socially anxious bodies. Mercifully, there’s only a few people outside, couples all tangled up and people smoking around the edge of the pool. She forgot Mikey Donahue had a pool, though she supposes his parents were always notorious for their money and how visible they made it.

This wasn’t her scene in high school, and it certainly isn’t now. Honestly, she’s not sure why she agreed to go with Joel in the first place. Oh yeah, Lisa-Anne. She kind of wishes she let Lisa-Anne have this one.

“Hey, big city, there you are!” Mikey again, this time with no Joel to wrangle him off and away from her. He really is the quintessential all-american boy, home from some expensive east coast school that she can’t remember the name of, the whole blonde and blue eye thing, floppy and smiley like a well-bred golden retriever. She isn’t quite sure where this sudden chumminess with her has come from, they certainly didn’t run in the same circles as teenagers. But there isn’t much room to ponder it when he has once again slung his arm around her, his face so close to hers that she can smell the pabst blue ribbon he probably just tossed back.

“Remind me what you’re studying all the way up in Chicago?” She knows for a fact that drunk Mikey has a temper, like, punching holes in the walls of his parents’ basement temper, so she makes no move to push him away, though she’d really like nothing more right now, trying and failing to create even an inch more of distance between them. Mikey doesn’t like that, dropping his arm to sling low around her waist, his fingers brushing against the bare skin between her jean shorts and where the fabric of her t-shirt has rucked up.

“I’m studying English.” It comes out smaller and quieter than she would like it to, her throat tightening with something like panic at Mikey’s continued advancements. On his part, Mikey seems to find the whole thing amusing, tossing his head back in a hard laugh.

“That’s right, always a little bookworm, weren’t you? Tell me this, what the hell can you even do with an English degree, big city?”

“You can do a lot of things with an English degree, Mike.” She’s just pissed off enough to finally yank out of his grip, sending him stumbling a few feet back, though he’s quick to recover with a laugh that sounds a little less friendly.

“I know it’s been a while since you’ve been home, big city, so I’m gonna do you a favor and pretend like that was just an accident.”

“Hey, Mike, where’d you go, man?” She’s never been so happy to hear Joel’s voice in her life, she thinks, taking one more subtle step back as he sidles up next to Mikey and slings his arm around his shoulders. The light from inside the house casts shadows over Joel’s forearm where it’s draped against Mikey’s chest, and she can see the tendons jumping there from how hard he’s holding onto him, though it otherwise looks like a friendly embrace.

“Was just catching up with that one, Miller, so you can fuck right off, thanks.” And there it is. She feels herself wince with the bite of Mikey’s words, though Joel stays completely calm, a placid and altogether unsettling smile quirking up his mouth.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink, man. Why don’t you leave the nice girl alone and go sleep it off before you do something you’re gonna regret?” She should probably do something other than stand there and stare at what is probably, definitely about to become a bad scene, a small crowd starting to form around them already. But she feels frozen where she stands, her eyes darting between Mikey’s sneer, and Joel’s ticking jaw.

“And who’s gonna make me regret it, Miller, huh? You?” Because they are apparently still children, the crowd of people let out a low chorus of ooooh at that. And then for a moment it’s perfectly silent and perfectly still, Joel and Mikey staring each other down in a strange, half-way thing between an embrace and a strangle-hold. But by the time she blinks again, the both of them have swung, Mikey missing and Joel making clipped contact with the side of Mikey’s jaw. It’s just enough to send Mikey stumbling back and over the edge of the pool, and because he’s still got a fist clenched in Joel’s shirt, he gets yanked in after him.

The crowd is quick to disperse after such a disappointing climax to their little spat, and while Mikey hauls himself out of the pool on the other side like a drowned cat, she finds herself offering out her hand to an equally sodden Joel. He drips all over her sneakers when he gets out, his flannel clinging to his torso, damp and darkened, something she tries not to pay too much attention to.

“You okay?”

“I’m not the one who just fell into a pool.” He drags a hand through his hair to get it slicked back out of his face, water still dripping off the tip of his nose as he looks at her. For a moment, she thinks that he looks small, a slight shiver in his shoulders, his eyes wide and his lashes all stuck together. He looks young, and he’s looking at her and only her.

“I’m fine, Cher, let’s get out of here, huh? This party is dead anyways.” With a quick shake back of his shoulders and a thumb swiped under his nose, that familiar front has already slipped back into place. But she’s fine with it if it means they’re going to get out of this place, letting Joel lead the barreling way back through the house, his sneakers squeaking and squelching with every step. And even though he looks ridiculous, dripping all over the hardwood floors of Mikey’s parents’ house, he keeps his chin tilted up like he owns the place and his shoulders squared off as broad as his leanness will allow, easily parting a path for them through the crowd and out onto the front lawn.

Neither of them speak when they get into the car, leaving the radio off as the engine splutters to life and they start winding their way back out of the wealthy neighborhood. She wants to say something, to thank him, to ask him if he’s sure that he’s okay, but she can’t find the right words, twisting her hands in her lap and watching the way the truck’s headlights spill out over the road.

“So you’re really going for it out in Chicago?” His voice breaking the silence startles her out of her simmering mind, and when she glances over at him, he only offers her a quick side sweep of his eyes before he focuses back on the road.

“You said you’re studying English?” He heard that? How long was he watching her and Mikey?

“Oh, um, yeah, yes.” She keeps her focus on the knuckles of his hand draped over the top of the steering wheel, a subtle tension and flexion to his grip.

“Gonna be a big shot writer, right? That was always your dream, wasn’t it?”

“When I was a kid, yeah. I don’t know, I’ll probably end up teaching, though I think my parents expect me to just wind up married and pregnant by the end of it anyways.” He snorts at that, shaking his head though he keeps his eyes on the road.

“You were always writing stories, Cherry.”

“Uh-huh.” Honestly, she’s surprised he held onto that fact, the ratty composition books she carried around everywhere as a child, and well into her teens too.

“Ever write one about me?”

“Oh, sure.”

“Wait, really?” His eyes finally dart over to her, eyebrows shot up his forehead and she has to bite back a laugh.

“Yeah, it was about your astonishing humility and non-existent ego.” She can barely get it out with a straight face, already dissolving into another laugh as Joel rolls his eyes at her dig.

“Alright, alright, guess I walked into that one.” They’ve just pulled up in front of her house, Joel flicking off the headlights so her parents don’t notice. For once, she’s in no hurry to get away from him, an honestly foreign feeling as they sit in his truck. He’s still soaking wet, his hair starting to stick up every which way from how it’s drying, though he seems perfectly content to keep staring at her, something like a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“You don’t like being home very much, do you, Cherry?”

“I really don’t, no.” She says it on a long sigh, no idea why she’s inclined to be honest with him like that.

“How come?”

“I feel like no one takes me seriously down here.”

“I do.”

“Joel.”

“What? I do.”

“How can that possibly be true when you still call me a name that came from me snorting soda out of my nose?”

“Okay, maybe originally it came from that, but that’s not why I call you it now, not really.”

“Please enlighten me then, why do you call me that?” His brow furrows for a moment, like he’s choosing his words carefully, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he finally answers.

“Because– because I just do, okay? But I do take you seriously, for the record.” She leans her head back on the seatrest, tilting her chin to look at him where he has his arm hanging over the steering wheel, his full body leaning and twisting toward her.

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh, and I’m gonna want a signed copy of your first book.”

“Oh please.”

“I’m dead serious, Cher. I probably won’t read it, but I reckon it’ll be worth something when you get all famous and shit.”

“Lovely, Joel, thanks so much for that.” He shrugs, though his gaze stays steady with hers, and it happens again, that softening around the edges, that kid she remembers. And again, it’s gone in a flash, Joel suddenly leaning toward her in an unexpected way. And, well, she reacts before she can really think.

“Jesus! What the fuck, Cher?” He has bodily recoiled from her back into the driver’s side, his palm cupping his cheek where she just landed a hard smack with the flat of her hand.

“Me what the fuck? You what the fuck? What the hell was that, Joel?”

“I don’t– I thought we were having a– a nice moment!” She goes to open the passenger side door, but Joel is quick to reach over and shut it again like a petulant child, eliciting a bitter laugh from her.

“We were until you pulled that shit. I’m not one of your little housewives that you can do whatever you want with.” This time, he doesn’t try to stop her when she clambers out of the truck, though he isn’t quite finished yet.

“Oh c’mon, Cherry! This ain’t playing fair!” She quickly shushes him before he starts to wake up half the neighborhood with his exclamations, only staying close enough to the car so she can whisper yell back at him.

“I’m not playing, Joel. Do me a favor and just stay away from me, why don’t you?”

…

While Sarah may not be the strongest batter, which is okay because Joel is working with her on it most afternoons, she makes for a mean third baseman, though part of him secretly wishes she played shortstop more often. And though he’s usually busy shouting reminders and tips at her from the bleachers, Joel is a bit preoccupied today watching something else, or someone else is more like it.

He’s never been so pissed at chain link fencing in his life for obscuring his view of her, standing in front of the bleachers with her arms crossed and her hip cocked out as she watches the game from behind sunglasses and a ball cap. But he’s also never been more grateful for the Austin swelter because it means that she’s in a tank top and jean shorts, and he’s pretty sure his mind is starting to short-circuit because it looks to him like Cherry picked up some tattoos in the last seventeen years. He can’t tell what they are from this distance, something wrapped over her right shoulder and down her bicep, and, fuck him, something on the top of her right thigh. So maybe he’s craning his neck a little to try to make out what the ink is, and maybe he should be paying more attention to the game, because when there’s suddenly some sort of scuffle on the field between the umpire and one of Sarah’s coaches, he has no clue what he missed.

“That was an out, are you kidding me? She tagged her!” He’s sitting close enough to third that he’s pretty sure it’s Ellie, at least he thinks that was her name, who the umpire and the coach are arguing over whether Sarah got her out or not before she stepped on third. Yeah, definitely Ellie, because here comes Cherry from the bleachers on the other side.

“Her foot was on the base when she tagged her, that wasn’t an out!” The umpire looks at Cherry with an amount of exasperation that tells Joel they’ve interacted before. Cherry, meanwhile, has her cap off and her sunglasses slanted down her nose to look at the ump with all the kindness of a parole officer.

“Ma’am please let us handle this and return to the bleachers.” He’s not sure why he decides to get involved, it’s not like he actually saw what happened. But the combination of it being Sarah who either did or didn’t get Ellie out and his own small desire to get a little closer to Cherry, regardless of the context, has him up off the bleachers and hooking his fingers through the chain link fence.

“I’m pretty sure it was an out, I had a better view of it than you did, Cher.” Judging by the way she scoffs and shakes her head, he probably shouldn’t have called her that, though there isn’t much time to ponder that when she’s walking over to him and getting as up in his face as she can with the thin mesh of chain link separating them.

“Don’t Cher me, Joel.”

“Mom, please, it’s fine, I’m pretty sure she got me before I tagged up.” Ellie and Sarah both look pretty ready for this situation to be over, huffing and rolling their eyes at their parents’ strange display.

“Els, you are not out, okay? You’re gonna stay on third and the game is gonna get going again–”

“Always were a sore loser.” It just slips out, and it isn’t even true. He was the sore loser, and he knows it, and judging by the way Cherry whips back around to glare at him, he has just incurred her admittedly deserved wrath.

“Oh, that is real rich coming from you, Joel Miller, you are–”

“Alright, folks, we don’t have time for this and I’m going to have to ask you both to wait in the parking lot while we finish this game.”

“What?” They say it at nearly the same time to the umpire, who just shakes his head at them and points toward the parking lot next to the ball field.

“Both of you, out of here, or I’m going to disqualify both of your girls from playing.” Well, really no arguing with that, especially not when Sarah and Ellie are giving them both pleading looks from behind the umpire. Cherry doesn’t give him another look, simply mutters an apology to the umpire before heading off toward the parking lot. And all he can do is sheepishly follow behind her with his own apology and a gruff play well offered to Sarah who just rolls her eyes at him.

No, not exactly what he had in mind for their second meeting.

He probably shouldn’t, but since he already seems to be playing the fool, he figures he doesn’t have much to lose in approaching her where she’s sitting in the popped-open trunk of her minivan, her sunglasses pushed up to the crown of her head and her legs swinging idly over the lip of the trunk.

“I’m, uh, sorry about all that.” Her eyebrows raise, a weary look that makes something hot and slippery curl in his gut, a little bashful under her gaze.

“I am too, I guess. They probably shouldn’t let us on the field together, huh?” Her words crack a bit dryly with the curl of her smile, instant relief washing over him in mirroring her expression.

“No, I reckon not.” She doesn’t say anything more, just scoots her hips to one side and pats the space next to her, an invitation he tries not to seem so eager to take as he sits down beside her. Close enough now that he can get a better look at the tattoo on her arm and her thigh. Something beating hard in his chest and tightening up his throat when he realizes that it’s a bouquet of chrysanthemums etched into her thigh. And on her arm, spiraling over her bicep and across her shoulder is a branch of a cherry tree.

…

There’s no other option on a Sunday. She wishes more than anything that there was, but she knows that everywhere else is closed.

“Thatcher’s auto and towing, how can I help you?” She hasn’t spoken to him in two weeks, not since that night they went to Mikey Donahue’s party. She even started picking Will up herself for dinner to avoid having him anywhere near her, pointedly ignoring the his shouts of her name from the ball field whenever she does. So hearing his voice gives her pause, and she nearly hangs the payphone back up, but she really has no other option right now.

“Uh, hi, my car broke down and I need to get it towed.”

“Cherry?”

“Um, yes?” There’s a long pause on the other end, though she’s pretty sure she can hear him let out a deep sigh.

“Shit, okay, where are you?”

“I’m out by the new mall, um, I think right off of eighth street? I don’t know what’s wrong with it, honestly it just sort of– gave out on me.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in five, just stay right where you are.”

“Well, I can’t exactly go anywhere else, Joel.” She can hear the sound of something metal clanging around in the background, followed by Joel letting out a low curse.

“Right, yeah, just hang tight.” With that, he hangs up with a quiet click, and all that’s left to do is walk the two blocks back to her car. Technically, it’s her mom’s car, her old station wagon that had been given to her as a graduation gift, dark green with wood paneling and a dent in the back bumper that she has somehow managed to hide from both of her parents for a year now. She gives the car another once over, definitely nothing wrong with her tires, and she’s not even going to pretend like she’d know what’s going on under the hood, so she settles against the side of the car door and bides her time watching the slow trickle of traffic pass by.

It’s the middle of the afternoon, another record-breaking day of heat, she’s pretty sure. At least it feels that way, her eyes set in a perpetual squint under the hard beat of the sun as she swipes at the sweat on her forehead with the back of her wrist. Though mercifully she’s not waiting for long when a truck with the Thatcher’s Auto logo on the side comes pulling up alongside where she had managed to park her car on the shoulder of the road. He hops out of the truck, dressed in a pair of coveralls with the sleeves tied around his waist, a white wife beater on top that’s smeared with grease stains, and she has to remind herself that she’s still pissed at him when his dimple pops with a sheepish smile as he approaches her, tugging the baseball cap off his head to run a hand through his hair before settling his hat on backwards.

“Hey, Cherry, um, how– how have you been?”

“I’ve been better, Joel, considering that my car won’t even start.” Nope, she’s not going to give him anything else, setting her jaw in a hard line and jerking her chin back over her shoulder as if to say get on with it. Joel seems to take the hint, giving her a jerky nod before taking a quick look around her car.

“Well, your tires look fine. Lemme pop the hood and see if it’s anything obvious.” She hopes more than anything that it is something obvious, that she isn’t going to have to drive back to the shop with him, but judging by the way Joel lets the hood close with a shake of his head, she doesn’t think she has gotten so lucky.

“I don’t know, Cher, I think you’re gonna have to come back to the shop with me so I can take a closer look.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to hold back a frustrated groan before she finally looks at Joel again.

“Okay, fine, and how long is that gonna take, do you think?”

“Got a few other cars I have to take care of first, but it shouldn’t be too long. You okay to wait at the shop?”

“I don’t think I have much of a choice, so yeah.” She waits in the cab of the truck while Joel hitches her car up, keeping her eyes flicked down and out of the passenger window when he gets back in.

“You giving me the silent treatment?”

“No, I just don’t have anything to say to you.” She doesn’t look at him as she says it, but she can hear the huff of a sigh he lets out before he cranks the truck into drive. He doesn’t try to talk to her for the rest of the drive, and she keeps her arms crossed pointedly in front of her chest, her whole body angled toward the passenger-side door. However, when they pull into the garage at Thatcher’s and she tries to get out, the lock on her door promptly clicks down and the handle won’t budge.

“Can we just talk for a second, Cher?” She pries the lock back open, but just as soon as she does, Joel clicks it back into place, forcing her to finally glare at him. His brow is furrowed and his knee is bouncing in his seat, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d guess that he’s nervous.

“Fine, what is so important that you have to lock me into your truck like a goddamn serial killer?”

“Wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t being so goddamn stubborn to begin with.” She lets out a clipped bark of laughter at that, once again pulling the lock up on her own to try to get out, and once again, like a deranged comedy act, he clicks it back into place before she can even get her fingers around the handle.

“Joel Miller, I swear to God, if you don’t let me out of this car right now I’m going to scream.”

“I just– just– fuck, Cherry, I’m sorry, okay? I wanted to say that I’m sorry.” That gives her pause. There have been only two other times in her life that Joel has apologized to her. The first time was when they were eight years old, and really, she thinks, it shouldn’t count because his mom forced him to, her hand between his small shoulder blades nudging him forward to say sorry for pulling on her braid from the pew behind her at church and making her cry.

The second time, they were ten. That one does count. She was sitting on the swings at the playground down the street, scribbling in her notebook when a little crew of boys in the grade above her came out of nowhere and started heckling her. Joel showed up on his bike as she was picking up the tattered pages and scraps of what had been the story she was working on in her notebook. She remembers that she was trying really hard not to cry in front of him when he knelt down beside her to help her gather the torn pieces, small hands trying to make it right. He had nothing to be sorry for, but he still said that he was real sorry, Cher, quiet, and sounding much older and wearier than a ten-year-old should. That one counts. But otherwise, those words coming out of his mouth have been non-existent, so she can’t help but fall silent to hear just what he has to say.

“You’re sorry?” He takes off his cap again, setting it down on the dash of the truck and dragging his hand back through his hair, very clearly having to work himself up to saying it again when he finally looks at her.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about what happened after Mikey’s party. I just– I thought that you–”

“Thought that I what? Did you really think I was going to be that easy, Joel?”

“What? No, if you would just let me finish speaking for Christ’s sake, I know that’s kind of difficult for you and your big mouth–”

“Wow, Joel, you really know how to apologize to a girl, huh?” With that, he slams the heel of his hand against the steering wheel, letting out a sharp curse that makes any other smart remarks fizzle out in her throat.

“You know what, Cher? Just forget it. You can go wait in the office and I’ll have your car ready for you as soon as I can.” He finally unlocks the car door, and she’s more than happy to get out and slam it behind her.

“Fine.”

“Yeah, fine.”

…

“So is your wife not a fan of softball?”

“My what?”

“Your wife, does she not like coming to games?” All he can do is laugh for a moment, pure disbelief at her question, and when he finally looks at her again, her brow still furrowed in confusion, he shakes his head with a huff.

“Is that like a funny question or something?” Just a little snap of annoyance behind her words, though he’s quick to respond, holding out his left hand in between them, his decidedly ringless left hand.

“A little bit considering there is no wife.” It’s the middle of the fourth inning from what he can tell, still plenty of time for them to be not allowed on the field, sitting in the back of Cherry’s car.

“Oh, but– was there one? I mean, Sarah’s mom?”

“Uh, no, she’s not in the picture, at all.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. But, uh, what about you? I mean– is Ellie’s– is your, uh–” She cuts off his floundering with a nudge of her shoulder against his, a tight smile on her lips.

“Not in the picture.”

“At all?”

“Never, doesn’t even know Ellie exists.”

“Shit, Cher, that had to have been hard.” She laughs, a clipped sound in the back of her throat as she slides her sunglasses back down onto her nose, keeping her gaze out on the field in front of them. He quickly does the math in his head, pretty sure that Ellie and Sarah are the same age, something heavy and hot settling in his chest when he realizes that she would have only been twenty-two when she had her daughter, just like him. It’s an aching fact, one that his mind starts to swim with, though her voice pulls him out of it quickly.

“It definitely wasn’t easy, but I’d like to think I’ve done alright.”

“I’ll say, it seems like every year there’s a new book of yours in the news for being a bestseller.” She turns to look at him at that, her eyebrows raised and her lips parted before settling into a slight smile.

“Have you read any of them?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.” His answer seems to stop her, her face falling behind the darkness of her sunglasses, though she’s quick to catch herself with a breathy humph before turning her eyes back on the field in the distance. He wishes he could tuck those words back in his throat, try that again if only to keep her eyes on him.

“Are your folks still in town?”

“Oh yeah, dinner every Sunday with them still.” She hums, a light sound that curls with her smile, though she still doesn’t look at him.

“That must be nice.”

“I think ma would throw a parade if she knew you were back in town.”

“Oh please.”

“I’m dead serious, Cher.” There, she looks at him again, her smile turning crooked as she nudges her shoulder against his, an easy moment that still makes his heart kick up in his chest.

“And Tommy’s still around? Miller’s Construction, right?” He must have a funny look on his face when she says that because she laughs again, something warm and flushed creeping into her cheeks that makes his mind go a little fritzed.

“I promise I’m not stalking you, I was just looking for someone to come fix some stuff at the new house. Sounds like you two have done well for yourselves.” His mind still hasn’t caught up, still such a strange feeling to have her here in the present, talking about these things in the present, all these normal, very grown up things.

“Uh, yes, yeah, we do alright. Tommy is still a fucking nuisance, but it’s good work. What’re you looking to get done?”

“I think my back porch is all rotted out, nearly put my foot through a plank the other day. Do you have any idea how much it would cost to redo the whole thing?”

“I’d have to come take a look, but I could redo it for you, no problem.” He has already decided how much it will cost. Nothing, not for her, though he knows if he told her that now she’d scoff and get someone else to do it who would accept payment. He’ll save that fact for after it’s finished.

“Alright, is there a number I can call to schedule an appointment?” Oh, oh, he’s not stupid enough to let this opportunity pass him by.

“Why don’t I, uh, give you my number? It’ll be easier that way.” He knows she knows what he’s doing, her lips pursing for a moment as if to consider it, but she still slides her phone out of her back pocket and hands it over to him. He has to think really hard about what his phone number is, typing it in with a small tremor in his hand that only gets worse when he gives her phone back to her with a barely there brush of their fingers.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Maybe, what’s the question?”

“Why’d you come back? I don’t know where you’ve been, Cher, but I can tell you that I never expected you to come back here.” Shit, he shouldn’t have asked that, because she’s not looking at him again, her chin tucking down as her mouth settles in a thin grimace.

“Honestly? I don’t know. We were in Chicago for the longest time, and then New York while I was working on my last two books. And it was great while it was great, you know? But it was just too much after a while, too much for Ellie, and too much for me.” He ducks his head down, trying to catch her gaze now that her sunglasses are pushed back up into her hair.

“So you made it to New York, huh?” That gets him a grin, her eyes crinkling up under her lashes at him.

“Yeah, the big leagues and all that shit.”

“How was it?”

“Lonely. I think I would have lost my mind if I didn’t have Ellie.” His heart twinges and then swells in his chest because he hates to hear that, and is also relieved to hear that, and then he hates himself for being relieved to hear that. That there wasn’t anyone else.

“For what it’s worth, Cherry, I’m real glad to see you back here again.” No, that didn’t come out quite right, and he has to stop himself from physically wincing when she gives him a furrowed look in response.

“I find that a little hard to believe, Joel.”

“Why?”

“Well, we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms, did we?” He feels a long sigh leave his lungs, and she’s already hopping out of the trunk and brushing her hands down the front of her shorts as if to shake the conversation off.

“I am sorry, Cher, I–”

“Don’t, Joel. Don’t do that.” She shakes her head hard at him, eyes fierce for a moment before she slips her sunglasses back into place.

“Well I am.”

“Well I don’t want you to be. There’s no need for it when that was such a long time ago.” He wants to say something else, anything, but the tightness in his throat keeps the words stuck and simmering somewhere in his chest. She doesn’t look at him again, murmuring something about the game ending and wanting to help Ellie pack up, and all he can do is dumbly agree, shutting the trunk of her car and walking back toward the field a few paces behind her. Always a few paces behind her, it seems.

…

Joel was full of shit. Something about fixing her car as soon as he could, something about it not taking too long. Yeah, bullshit. She has been sitting in the front office of the auto shop for the last three hours, trying and failing to get some writing done in her notebook amidst the seemingly ceaseless sounds of whirring drills, clanking and crashing metal, and the men in the garage cursing and carrying on amongst themselves. Though some of the sound has died down now that it’s just Joel working, the other men all clocking out at five o’clock. Meanwhile, he hasn’t even gotten to her car yet.

Everytime she glances into the garage, his legs are still sticking out from under a cream-colored mustang. When he does finally pop out from underneath the car, her hopes of getting out of the place soon are quickly dashed as someone pulls up to the gas pumps out front. She knows that car, a convertible in an obnoxious shade of turquoise that could only mean Maureen Henderson. Her daddy got her that car for her sixteenth birthday and she never stopped thinking she was hot shit for it ever since.

She gets up from her cracked vinyl chair in the office to stand at the windows, trying to get a better look at their interaction. Joel is in fine form, of course, leaning down close over the driver’s side door, all grins, all popping gum with his jaw as Maureen rests a perfectly french-tipped set of fingers on his bicep. He must say something really funny for her to toss her head back like that, her teased-out hair bouncing with her tittering laugh. Joel slips around the front of the car, and, really, she thinks, is it so necessary for him to pump Maureen’s gas for her? Can Maureen really not just pump her own gas like a normal person? All a bit outdated, if you ask her. Though Maureen seems perfectly pleased with the whole production, leaning across the passenger’s side and slipping a few folded up bills into the back pocket of Joel’s coveralls while he’s turned away to set the pump back in its holster. How nauseatingly sweet of Maureen, who’s rewarded with another grin and something that must be really fucking funny for her to laugh so loud before she peels away from the shop with one more waggle of her fingers at him. Joel, meanwhile, seems in no hurry to get back to work as he moseys back into the garage, counting the bills that Maureen just tucked into his pocket with a stupid smirk on his face. Yeah, she’s seen quite enough.

“Hey, so I’m just wondering, when you said this wasn’t going to take too long, did you know that you were full of shit? Or is Maureen just that distracting?” Her eyes nearly water when she steps into the garage from the smell of motor oil and burnt rubber, though she’s a little too pissed to worry about that as she walks over to where Joel is rummaging through a tool box next to the mustang.

“Aw, Cherry, don’t tell me you're jealous of little old Maureen.” She would like to smack his smile clean off his face, the only thing stopping her being the fact that she still needs him to fix her car.

“I’m not jealous, Joel. I have been sitting in that office all afternoon watching you do everything except fix my car and I would like to go home now.”

“So you’ve been watching me, huh?”

“Christ, you really are relentless, aren’t you?” She honestly can’t believe he’s already bounced back to his incessant teasing after their little blow up in his truck, poking his tongue into the side of his cheek and squinting at her as she huffs at him.

“Alright, Cher, you’ve waited long enough. I’ll take a look.” She follows close on his heels as he sidles over to her car, popping the hood and ducking his head under to look at the engine.

“Well?” Though she has no clue what he’s looking at, she still leans over the engine next to him, searching his face for any answers.

“Hmm, oh, here’s your problem.” He twists what looks like a loose knob down into the engine, shocking her with how quickly he stands back up with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“That– that’s it?”

“Yep, loose spark plug.”

“And you couldn’t have fixed that earlier on the side of the road?”

“No, I could have, but then you wouldn’t have come and kept me company with your death glare all afternoon.” He can barely get his words out around a laugh. But she is decidedly not laughing. It’s completely impulsive, and maybe childish, but it feels good to shove the flat of both her palms into his chest, making him stumble back against the side of the mustang parked next to her car. And since it felt so good the first time, she decides to do it again, this time with enough force for his laughs to die out with a grunted oof.

“You’re an ass, do you know that? A huge– fucking– ass–” Each word gets punctuated with another shove, though on the last one Joel wraps his hand around her wrists, collecting them both in a tight hold and only pulling her closer against his chest when she tries to yank away from him.

“Let go, Joel.” Their faces are so close to each other’s that she can smell the cinnamon on his breath from that Big Red gum he likes to chew, can even see the freckle tucked between his lashes underneath his right eye, the same freckle that’s been there since they were kids.

“No.”

“No?”

“No, I’m not gonna let go.”

“You’re a fucking child.”

“That the best you got, Cherry baby?”

“Do not call me that.”

“Or else what?” A beat, a blink, a moment for her heart to sink into her stomach and shoot straight up into her throat when they both lurch into the space between them. There’s nothing nice about the first one, in fact, it hurts a little with how hard they both press into it, her nose mashing up against his as their teeth scrape and clash with each other. They kiss ugly. They kiss angry. Both of them too stubborn to let the other one get away with anything, the moment he licks into her mouth, she tangles her fingers in the back of his hair and tugs hard, swallowing down the grunt that looses from his throat. Though her upper hand is short-lived when Joel drops both his palms down to her ass and squeezes hard, her whole body jolting in his hold and pressing closer to him. He’s probably getting grease all over her clothes, but she’s not too concerned with that as she keeps drawing low little groans out of him every time she swipes her tongue against his.

“Wait, Cher– shit, wait– I can’t– I don’t–” She finally pulls back when he keeps mumbling, and suddenly the reality of the situation comes plummeting down on her, starting to panic when it seems like Joel has decided this was all a big mistake.

“What, what is it?”

“I want to do this right with you– your– you should have a nice first time and–”

“Wait, what?” Joel’s eyes get wide and round, his hands dropping down by his sides from where they had been holding her hips when she takes a step back from him.

“Well, I, uh– you– you’re–”

“Joel, have you just assumed that I’m a virgin?” He winces at the word like it’s a curse, and she finally has to laugh at how ridiculous this is.

“Does that mean you’re not?”

“Just shut up, Joel.” With that, she reaches forward for his waist where the sleeves of his coveralls are tied, making quick work of the knot and rucking his pants the rest of the way down as she kneels in front of him. She tucks her fingers into the band of his boxers, unable to help her grin when she feels his stomach tense against her knuckles.

“Can I?”

“Fuck, yeah, yes– you can do whatever you want, Cherry.” She likes him like this, with his throat bobbing and a crack in his voice pitching his words up an octave, his eyes wide and watching as she tugs his boxers down. And oh, she likes him like this too. Pretty boy who’s certainly pretty all over. The narrow tanness of his hips tapers into a dark thatch of curls, and well, there’s no two ways about it, he’s big, already hard, the tip flushed a perfect pink. Only a little intimidating, but judging by the sound he makes when she suckles the head of him into her mouth, she has it under control.

“Oh my god– fuck, okay, fuck– you– you’re good at that– Jesus.” There’s a bit too much of him to take it all into her mouth, though she does her best to bob her head down his length, her hand wrapping around what she can’t quite reach as she laps at the vein running along the underside of his cock. A fleeting thought in the back of her mind, this was not how she imagined her day going, not in any universe. But something has snapped, something that cannot be stitched back together. And now, all she feels is an aching want, pulling taut in her stomach, pulling her to him. Want, want, want. She’s never wanted something so bad in her life, she thinks. Not very ladylike to want like this, to gag with it, to dribble spit around it, to see how much more she can take just to coax another broken moan out of his chest, her palms splayed out on his hips to keep him pinned still beneath all her want. But what she didn’t consider is that he wants it just as bad and big as she does, hooking his hand around the back of her neck to pull her off of him and hoist her onto her feet, chasing after the taste of himself on her tongue as he turns them around to press her up against the side of the car.

“That was gonna be over too fucking soon if I let you keep doing that.” His hands get a little greedy, a little desperate, fumbling to get her t-shirt off before tugging her bra up and overhead without even unclasping it, ducking his head down to let his teeth scrape and nip at the newly exposed skin. He pauses only for a moment, pulling back, his parted lips shiny and blushing and his eyes heavy as he takes her in. She can’t help but drag her hand back through his hair, something tight settling in her chest when he absent-mindedly nudges his cheek closer into the cup of her palm.

“You’re something else, Cherry.” She doesn’t have any time to ask him just what he means by that, his lips already finding hers again, a small gasp in the back of her throat at the feeling of her nipples dragging against the fabric of his wife beater. And then it’s an awkward, slow shuffle, given that his coveralls and boxers are still pooled and pulled around his ankles, around to the front of the car, his hands finding the backs of her thighs to coax her up and onto the hood. From there his palms start to wander, one coming to cup the side of her neck before slipping down to her breast, the boyish squeeze he leaves there making her laugh, though the sound dies fast when his other hand rests heavy at the waistband of her shorts, thumbing at the button.

“Can I touch you, Cher?” It’s entirely too earnest, the way he’s looking at her from beneath the thick fan of his lashes, a small crease between his brows. And she’s a little afraid of how her want might skitter up her throat, so instead of saying anything, she simply pulls him in by the nape of his neck for another kiss as her other hand bats his away to undo her shorts. Mercifully, it’s enough of an answer for Joel, his hand replacing hers and dipping down beneath the fabric of her panties, the broadness of his palm cupping her cunt and grinding up into her heat in a way that makes her gasp against his mouth.

Annoyingly, he’s halfway decent at it, swiping his fingers through her cunt in a harsh rub, though she tenses up when he tries to immediately dip two of his thick fingers into her clenching entrance.

“Jesus Christ, warm me up a little first, why don’t you?” He looks genuinely perplexed by her exclamation, his hand stilling beneath the fabric of her panties as his brow crumples in reaction.

“What did I do wrong?” She tugs lightly at the hair at his nape, a light laugh leaving her lips when he lets out a huff like an impatient boy.

“You’re a bit harsh, Joel.”

“Well, I’ve never had any complaints before.” Said with a roll of his eyes and his hand still down her pants so really, she has a hard time taking him seriously.

“Well, I’m complaining. Just– gentler, here.” She clasps her fingers around his wrist to pull his hand away, giving her room to shimmy her shorts and panties further down over the curve of her ass, the way Joel’s eyes instantly fall to where her legs have now splayed open a bit wider not getting lost on her. She fits her palm to the back of his hand, guiding it back to her cunt, her fingers pressing against the backs of his to direct a firm, swirling pressure to her clit. Her head tilts back on her neck as the pleasure settles over her slow and smooth, continuing to guide Joel’s hand with her own.

“Just like that, s’perfect.”

“Like that?” He says it so quietly, so uncharacteristically small that her attention snaps back onto him. His eyes are glued to where her hand is still moving his, lips parted, a look that borders on wonder and clear concentration, and suddenly, she can’t take her own gaze away from the sight, her head tilting on her shoulder as her hand falls away from his to let him do it on his own.

“Yeah, Joel, feels really good like that. You can– you can add a finger now.” When he does, much slower, much softer, her eyes scrunch shut with a small curse and a sigh, and she finds herself leaning back on her elbows over the hood of the car, her whole body splayed out before him. Joel follows her slow fall, keeping a steady rhythm with his hand as he curls over her, his mouth resting hot and open between her breasts before he tilts his head to the side to take the peak of one of her nipples into his mouth.

“That feel good, Cher?”

“Yes, keep doing that, please. I– I’m gonna get there just like this.” Miracle, he listens, only adding another finger when she asks him for it, fucking her with his hand just how she wants him to. Miracle, she can’t tear her eyes away from his, the way he seems to be watching her face for every tell, every sigh and every fall. And miracle, she comes undone for him slowly, a cry catching in her throat when it finally hits her, the easiest unraveling. He only stops when she whines for him to, tugging his hand away and pulling him down for a kiss that’s more just two open mouths laying over each other than anything else.

“Can we? Do you want to?”

“Yes, I want to.”

“Condom?”

“Birth control.”

“Gotta love women’s lib.”

“Just don’t tell my mom.”

“Please don’t talk about your mom right now, Cher.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, just come here.” He struggles a bit to tug her shorts and panties off of her feet, the fabric getting caught on her sneakers, though when he’s finally successful it’s the easiest thing for his hips to slot with hers, his hands curling around the backs of her knees to hitch her legs around his waist. Her arms settle loosely around his shoulders, laying back and bringing him with her as he presses his cock against her swollen cunt. A quick snarl of pain that pleasure snaps and smacks after when drives into her with one languid stroke, both of them letting out stuttered sighs when his hips press against hers. All of that want flickering up and down her spine as he starts to fuck into her, spreading her open again and again.

“S’a fucking dream, you’re a fucking dream.” She almost wants to laugh at the breathless murmuring of his words, because truthfully she doesn’t think anything has ever felt this real. Her body fitting around his, the way her heart is threatening to beat a break in her ribs, the way her nails can drag down the sliding wings of his shoulder blades, and the incessant, aching heat of him throbbing so deep inside her that she thinks she’ll still feel that hurt tomorrow. She hopes that she will.

“Joel, look at me, please.” She has to tug on his hair to coax his face out of the hollow of her throat and suddenly that want is dangerous. Looking into the crumpled pleasure painted across his face, watery eyes and slack jaw, and that want becomes dangerous because that want becomes something more.

She can feel her slick dripping down her thighs, the sound of skin meeting skin mixing with the obscene slip of it, only a fleeting worry about making a mess of the car, though that flits away when Joel drags his fingers back over her clit a little harder, a little greedier.

“Just want one more, Cher, please.” She likes please on his tongue. Please pushes her right over the edge. A little harder this time, a little more ragged, furling up tight and taut around him before everything melts down with a whine of his name. He’s still saying please like a prayer when he comes, and all she can do is sigh with the warmth spreading inside of her. Inhale, exhale, her ribs expanding as his contract, a careful, quiet dance as they both come down, still pressed close, lips suggesting grazes.

“Do you, uh, want to come up to my apartment?” Want says yes, a whisper her ears prick to under the obvious shout of no. Want says yes, over and over.

“Yeah, okay.”

....................................

taglist (lmk if you want added or dropped): @casa-boiardi @tieronecrush @swiftispunk @beskarandblasters @trulybetty @amanitacowboy @pr0ximamidnight @wannab-urs @jksprincess10 @suzmagine @everything-isfucked @lanabobana @kittenlittle24 @sarap-77 @officerrrfriendly @val-srz @bitchwitch1981 @redwoodsanddaffodils @themothersmercy @romanarose

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller story #joel miller series #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller au

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saintvainglorious · 4 months

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10 Best Black Sails Fics I Read in 2023

In honor of Black Sails' 10th anniversary, here's a list of my top 10 favorite Black Sails fics I read in 2023, in order from shortest to longest. Most Black Sails fic rec posts I've seen are now around 2 or 3 years old (though not all, bless @jaynovz and your #jay's esoteric rec lists tag) so nearly half of the recs in this list spotlight newer fics. It's amazing to see fantastic fics still being written and updated years after the show ended - y'all are keeping this fandom alive!

I didn't read that much Black Sails fic this year, comparatively speaking, so I'm sure there's plenty of newer gems that I missed. All the fics in this rec list are Silverflint unless otherwise stated.

1 - Gone To Port Royal by Apetslife (G, 3k) - a delightful oneshot from Gates' POV where they all go to a pirate afterlife. every scene is perfect. endlessly re-readable and never fails to make me smile.

Definition of Valhalla 1: the great hall in Norse mythology where heroes slain in battle are received 2 : a place of honor, glory, or happiness: heaven

2 - i’ll be seeing you by youatemytailor/@annevbonny (NR, 19k) - this is THEE post-canon Silverflint reunion fic. the anguish, the rage, the quiet jokes, the tenderness, it's all devastatingly in-character. particularly the chapter 5 climactic unspooling leaves me in awe upon every reread.

Silver is out of his chair and across the room before he knows it. He has a grip on the barkeep’s shirt before he knows it, and he’s pulling him up, hauling him eye-level, only to head-butt him to the ground again. The barkeep’s mouth is thrown open in a wail, but there’s no sound, Silver thinks, no sound at all, save for the blood rushing in his ears as he looks at the other man on the ground, watches him roll to his side with a groan. Flint, Silver thinks, and nothing else. It beats around the knife in his gut like a drum. Flint. And then Flint is looking at him.

3 - The Dark Lord Proprietor by Amiril/@runawaymarbles (M, 19k, Silverflintham) - a fuckin hysterical supervillain AU. Thomas has amnesia, Flint is pining, Silver tries to get them back together. what could go wrong? could not stop cackling.

A year ago, James Flint was in a stable relationship and was within spitting distance of taking over London. Now he’s single, with a dubiously loyal henchman, a lairmate determined to learn his every weakness, and a Secret Past with the new supervillain on the scene. And thanks to a new government program, it’s all a race to the bottom.

4 - the cross dimensional nassau bar of getting izzy hands laid by FortinbrasFTW/@fortinbrasftw (E, 19k ~WIP~, Flint/OFMD Izzy Hands) - a Black Sails OFMD Flint/Izzy Hands crossover. the very best kind of smut-as-character study. funny, gripping, and endlessly re-readable.

The first thing Izzy realizes is he looks absolutely fucking furious — which yeah, alright, fair enough. He’s got shorter ginger hair. A beard like Izzy’s but kept neater. Earrings like Izzy’s but worn simpler. Bleeding like Izzy but, well, maybe a bit less. And he’s handsome. Izzy realizes it suddenly and slowly somehow all at once. Bit like a bloody painting even. The kind you saw up on walls in rich folk’s houses. Only, well, no painting had eyes like that, did it? You’d have to be mad to keep a painting with eyes like that in your home. They were bright and clear and looked — honest-to-fucking-Christ — ready to set the whole damned world on fire. Izzy's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad night takes an interesting turn thanks to a completely different sort of pirate captain.

5 - frail and fragile bars by Ajaxthegreat/@francisthegreat (E, 21k) - Silver realizes, post-shark date, that he's in love with Flint. an instant, iconic fave fic. SO many delicious scenes and quotes that live rent free in my head. just read it, you won't regret it.

“I think you fuck,” Silver says. By which he means, with great intent: I think you are human. I know you are human. I see you.

6 - the whole estate of mortal man by Amiril/@runawaymarbles (T, 43k) - Creature Silver AU where he'll grant wishes in exchange for souls. first read this fic in 2020 and cried. reread it this year and cried again. the nature of the AU intersects so cleverly with Black Sails' themes, and the end result is devastating.

Silver has a limited memory, an unlimited lifespan, and a need for human souls. He spends months trying to buy Flint’s.

7 - our feast is but beginning by x_etoile_x/@etoilesombre (E, 55k) - Flint teaches season 1 Silver how to cook. they're definitely not dating. no, really. this writer writes dialogue so in-character that it cuts like a knife. features sensual cooking, Flint being a queer mentor for Silver, fun genderfuckery, and Them Being Real Tender.

Flint should walk away. Silver can figure out how to feed the men, it isn’t his problem. But roasting a pig is so easy, and when was the last time he had a hand in creating something rather than destroying it? Anyway, what else is he doing, with Billy taking the crew in hand with such annoying competency? He absolutely does not think about why he is reluctant for this interaction with Silver to end. “Go get another pig,” he says before he can reconsider. “Do exactly as I say.”

8 - With Strange Aeons by Amiril/@runawaymarbles (M, 60k, Silverflint + Flinthamilton + Jackanne) - Came for the Silverflint, stayed for the Silverflint but also for holy fuck Jack and Anne are sent to Savannah and break out of there with Thomas to battle literal Cthulhu. How can you NOT read this. I don't typically read Flinthamilton, but by god Thomas is amazing in this.

After the disappearance and presumed death of Captain Flint and Long John Silver, Max smuggles Jack and Anne to Oglethorpe’s plantation. Thomas learns that not only do the three of them have a friend in common, but he is not the only one whose dreams are haunted by a strange city and a terrifying name. Meanwhile, Flint and Silver try to escape an island trapped in time, impossibly built and impossibly old. Along the way they’re forced question reality, each other, and themselves. And in his house in R’lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.

9 - The Salt and the Sea by x_etoile_x/@etoilesombre (E, 60k) - a between season 2 and 3 recovery fic. i still remembered months after reading that chapter 4 in particular left me undone. a harrowing journey into the ruins of post-leg loss Silver's mind, plus exquisite hurt/comfort.

John Silver was always able to make the best of a situation. If this particular situation had started to feel complicated, well, a vast fortune ought to prove clarifying. Whatever he might have imagined he’d seen in Flint, the reality was they had used each other. And he had been set to walk away on top. Except now he couldn’t. Now he was trapped.

10 - the straight walk home by vowelinthug/@vowel-in-thug (E, 73k, Silverflint + Jackanne + Maxanne + Billy/Vane) - A western AU and one of the best long fics in the fandom. Excellent comedy, amazing AU twists on our favorite characters, found family vibes, nail-biting action, and a fucking fantastic climax. Also, I can't believe this fic got me invested in Billy/Vane.

Let me tell you a story, about a vaquero named Vasquez...

#black sails #black sails fic recs #silverflint #fanfiction #fic recs #bsanniversary #10yearsblacksails #10bsfest

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novaonhere · 10 months

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Quiet Nights

Relationship: Cal Kestis x f!reader

Summary: Cal has a dream that totally goes against the Jedi code. During his panic, you come to check on him and find him in a comprisable position.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: ITS SMUT TIME FOLKS, 18+, oral f! receiving, no condom, cussing, choking (duh the force?)

A/N: Delicious, I drank a full 32 oz of water after this

Prompt: Imagine your OTP where one of them had a dream about the other person and tries to act normal, but fails miserably, so the other one notices and gets curious about what the dream was about.

(gif not mine)

————————————————————————

You yawn, filling up your cup with water from the bathroom sink. You gulp it down, refreshing you as much as a glass of water at 3:34 am could. It was nice having a bigger bathroom; you're used to the small Mantis bathroom instead of this spacious one on Jedah. You, Cal, Bode, and Greez have arrived to the Hidden Path's base to touch base with Cere and learn more about this Tanalorr place. It seemed intriguing, but you were still on the fence if such a place could even exist.

Now here you stand, staring yourself down in the mirror, filling up another glass of water. As soon as you turn off the tap, a very faint and quiet noise echoes throughout the halls. Curious, you open the door, the noise just becoming ever so slightly louder. Time to investigate!

---

Cal twists and turns in his guest bed, his entire upper body reddened. Soft moans escape his lips. He was burning, and he couldn't bring himself to wake up. Hell, he didn't want to wake up. This was the best dream he had ever had!

You had surprised him with a night for just the two of you, walking through the forests on a planet he could not name. The trees towered above you, vibrant with their green leaves. They bring in just enough light to highlight the rugged dirt path. You both were holding hands, just enjoying each other presence. Now, the dream changed, and it most definitely explains Cal's reddened complexion as he lies in bed.

You're now hovering over him, in a beautiful matching set, perfectly complementing your skin tone. Lace runs up and down your body, showing off your curves and parts that Cal only wishes he could actually touch. You leaned in for a passionate kiss, straddling the man. He could basically feel you in his subconscious.

---

The sounds started to become louder the closer you got to you and the guest bedroom next door. Who was staying in there again? Is that Cal? You tip toe up to the door, placing an ear beside it. Yep, that's him, is he alright? You knock quietly, waiting for a response. The response never came. You knock a bit louder this time. A gasp fills the room, as well as some frantic shuffling.

"Cal?" You whisper to the door, the shuffling stopping immediately. "Are you alright?"

"Come in," He blurted, immediately regretting it. You hesitantly open the door, the light from the hallway showing a line of brightness on the man. He's sitting against the headboard, the blankets ruffled around his crotch and legs.

"Nightmares?" You ask, taking a step in and quietly closing the door behind you. "Would you like to talk about it?" You squint your eyes to get a better look at him, your eyes still adjusting to the dark. His are as wide as possible, extremely dilated from the darkness and the dream.

"I'm okay, thanks for checking, goodnight." He rambles, trying to sink into his bed. This only makes you more curious. As you eyes get more adjusted, you notice that his cheeks match his hair.

"Oh," You realize, blushing as well. "My apologizes." You giggle, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. "Who?" Cal just blinks.

"What?"

"Who was it! Mr. Jedi, Mr. I can't ever think about another person in a romantic or sexual way." You tease, playfully hitting his foot. He purses his lips together, causing your grin to only become greater. "Oh, come on Cal! This is big! Who?"

"Why is it so important?" He grumbles, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Oh my god, do I know them?" You cross your legs, fully facing the clearly embarrassed Jedi. He rolls his eyes, but the redness only darkens and spreads. You giggle gleefully. You hum, trying to think of who it could be.

You really hoped it was you. For months you've been trying to hint to him about your feelings, sometimes very vague, but other times very blunt. The rest of the crew caught on immediately, but the gears in Cal's brain just didn't seem to click. You've tried asking about dating and his romantic life, but he always brought up the Jedi Code, making your want for him only increase. You've had dreams, dreams of you being together, living through the rebellion, being together, domestically and intimately.

You're expression must softened as you were thinking because Cal coughed to get your attention. Now it was your turn to blush.

"You going to guess or let me go back to sleep?" He asked, rubbing his eyes. Now, you had a choice. Respect his want to go back to bed and continue about life, or be VERY BLUNT. You were tired, so there was only one right option.

"Was it me?" You ask, glancing around the room, trying to not meet his gaze. Cal's breath hitched, the blanket becoming too hot for his body. From the lack of response, you also started to heat up, clearing your throat. From the lack of response, you could only assume it was you. You. YOU?

You whip your head to face him, locking eyes. You... He wanted... you. You honestly couldn't believe it.

"Was it just a dream?" You mumble, Cal giving a questioning expression as you shift in your seated position. "Or do you actually have feelings?" You vulnerability seemed to easy Cal a bit, noticing how uncomfortable you were. He wanted to say the truth, but he didn't want to make it weird. Would it be weird? Eh, tonight was the "going for it" kinda night.

"Months." He simply states, trying to relax against his headboard. You perked your head up from your gaze into your lap. You cheeks redden, your breathing quickens, and something feels, different. The atmosphere feels intoxicating, but in a you shouldn't leave way. With the prolonged eye contact, you feel ass if Cal notices the feeling as well. You notice his hand are now at his sides, and there's an obvious lump by his lap. That weird feeling starts from your stomach and falls down your body, closer to your belly button.

"Months?" You repeat, raising an eyebrow. He purses his lips and nods. You hum. "Well..." You both grow silent, quiet. This had to be the quietest you too had ever been with each other. You waited for each other to make a move, but in all honesty, Cal was too vulnerable, physically. You start to feel the awkwardness subside and you feel yourself giggle.

"Hey, it's not funny." Cal frowns, while you shake your head.

"No, of course not." You compose yourself, scooting closer to the red head. "It's funny that we are telling each other we like each other with your dick out." Cal's face reddens completely, trying to compose himself as he places his hands over his lap. You outstretch your arms, pushing his hands away, causing the freckled man's eyes to widen dramatically. "Need any help?"

Cal practically springs up at you, locking your lips together in the most "I need you" kiss you've ever experienced. It was HOT. Like, you already started to sweat as your tongues fought each other. You needed him, you needed him so badly. He could feel that need from you, he wanted to provide that for you more than his dreams ever could. He pulled your up and into his lap, never once breaking the kiss. Your clit brushes against him, causing you to quiver in pleasure. He notices your movements and moves your hips back and forth on him, earning himself a quiet moan from you. He chuckles, retracting his lips from yours and goes for your neck. Your arms are around his shoulders, dragging your fingertips through his hair. You continue to moan and gasp into his ear, trying to stay quiet.

"You're wearing too many clothes for this," He comments, lifting the bottom of your shirt. You instantly comply, throwing it over your head and onto the floor. He goes back for your lips as you also tug on his shirt.

"Match?" You ask, giving him a small smile. He gladly follows through with your request, throwing his shirt toward yours. Your eyes wander down to his toned chest, scars and freckles decorating his body. You feel a fluttering sensation down there.

"Well if we're going to match you need that all off." He motions to the rest of your body, causing your to giggle and raise an eyebrow.

"You dont wear pants to bed, but a shirt?"

"Hey, my arms get cold. Allow me," He states going back in for a kiss. You immediately deepen it, allowing his tongue into your mouth to explore. All the while he waves his hand and your bra unclasps. Startled you pull away.

"Force?" You ask, tossing your bra away. He smiles, nodding, staring at you. He's never seen you like this, and boy was he going to enjoy and savor it. "Well, what else can you do?" He picks you up and slides you to be propped up where he once was, with the blanket still covering his lower half. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts, but before he does any more, he looks up at you. This causes your to blush, appreciative of the asking for permission. The knot in your core only tightens, god he was hot. Nodding, he slips them down with ease, along with your underwear. He crawls up to your face, giving you more kisses. He starts to trail down your body, more moans and gasps leaving you as he goes over your bare body. Finally he reaches below your belly button. He places light kisses to your thighs as he opens your legs with his free hand. You're practically dripping with anticipation by this point. He continues to kiss you, going closer to your inner thighs and to your opening. Propping your legs open with his body and arm, he proceeds to trail more and more kisses closer and closer.

Your arms are clutching the sheets by your sides, the amount of pleasure awaiting you but just out of your reach. The amount of teasing is excruciating; you need him. You moan louder and louder the closer he gets to your clit. Then, he proceeds to rub his tongue around your clit in circles. Your breathing hitches and becomes irregular.

"Fuck-" You cry out, making Cal only want to do more things to you. You were already so wet that he easily slid a finger into you, causing you to moan. He pumps in and out of you, slowly, making sure to curl his fingers up into you. How he knew how to do this you'll never understand, but holy shit was he doing a good job. He slides in another finger, starting to pick up the pace. Your hips start to have a mind of their own, fighting against him to push him deeper.

"Tell me," he states, looking up at you. His chin is glistening with you, his eyes so dilated they were almost black. His mouth hung open slightly, totally getting off to pleasing you.

"Deeper," You whine, and he grants your wish. He pushes deeper into you, causing you to whine out in pleasure.

"Holy Shit, Cal," You cry out, breathing erratically. The knot in your core tightens more, needing to find a good time to release. He quickens the pace, leaning over you to bring your lips together. Oh yea, that did it. You feel yourself just let go and this amount of pleasure and warmth rushes over you. It's so much that you moan out more expletives and his name repeatedly. After your high, you just see him. You need more, and god did you want to get more.

"Fuck me," You command, and he obliges. Pulling you closer to him, he uncovers his member, resting it on your stomach as he gets situated. He pulls a pillow and rests it under your lower back to make sure you don't hurt yourself, and keeping your ankles over his shoulders. You couldn't look away from him. Even his dick was freckled, which was kinda cute, but all you cared about was him and the fact you needed him in you.

"Are you ready?" He asks, noticing he has his dick in hand, ready to line himself up.

"Fuck, please," You groan, already closing your eyes in anticipation. He slides in, both of you moaning in pleasure.

"Holy shit, (Y/N)," he breathes out, barely over a whisper. His head is tilted back, holding onto your ankles. Your hands are by your lower stomach, trying to feel him in you from the outside because holy shit was he filling you full. He slowly starts to pump in and out of you, fully in, and fully out. Every pump in, you moan in delight. Sweat rolls down the both of you as you fill the room with heat and the sounds of pleasure. He starts to go faster, holding onto your thighs to bring you even closer.

"Cal~" You moan, holding your hands to your mouth because you knew you were about to get pretty loud. Without much thought, he pulls out and flips you onto your stomach. You push up onto all fours as he makes his way between your legs, entering you once more. Your arms give out, pushing your face into a pillow. This was helpful for covering your moans, but Cal wanted to hear them as he railed you. Carefully, he commanded the force to pull you up, by the neck. At first, only gently to not hurt you but to get up. You clenched in pleasure, moaning even louder. So, he also tightened his grip. Damn, so this is what he could do. After a bit more relentless railing, you felt your core have that same tightening sensation.

"Cal, I'm gunna-" You moan as he quickens the pace, causing you to moan out.

"Me too, fuck." He whispers out, nearing his release. Hearing him cuss like that over you sends you over as you scream out in delight. You clench onto him and release, an explosion of pleasure ruptures over yourself. His force lets go of you, making your head topple into the pillows. He grabs your hips and pushes him all the way, releasing into you. It's such a warm sensation, filling you up to the brim.You both stay like that for a few moments, catching your breathes. He pulls out, his cum leaking out of you.

"Holy shit," You say in unison. Cal chuckles, reaching for his towel that is on a nearby chair.

"Here, to clean up." He throws the towel onto your exposed behind. You blush, cleaning up yourself as you sit up on the towel, just in case. You cover yourself with his blanket, a sudden chill running all over you. Cal slips his boxers on from a nearby dresser and sits down beside you.

"I never thought we'd do that," You state, leaning into him. He happily wraps his arms around you.

"I'm glad we did, because wow. Jedi's are really missing out." This causing a laugh to escape you, causing him to also chuckle. You start to stand, but Cal holds you down.

"Stay tonight?" He asks, motioning to the pillows. He smiles warmly, and how could you say no? You return the smile, shuffling yourselves under the blankets and heads on pillows. He lays on his back as you cuddle up onto his chest, wrapping your arm around his torso. His arm lounges behind and around your back, rubbing it up and down.

"Well, we can do that as much as you want," You giggle, cuddling into him more.

"I'd like that, but also the cute romantic stuff." He chuckles, leaning down to kiss your head.

"Maybe a date?"

"I like the sound of that, in the morning?"

"Oh, let's go to the bakery down the street, I heard the have wonderful food." You smile, your eyelids feeling heavy.

"It's a date, goodnight (Y/N)." Cal whispers, closing his eyes. You hum back, already falling asleep. The smile never leaves your faces, even as you dream of what the future could hold for you two.

#cal kestis #cal kestis jedi survivor #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x y/n #cal kestis x you #jedi survivor #reader insert #star wars #star wars jedi fallen order #star wars jedi survivor #star wars x reader #star wars x y/n #star wars x you #y/n #smut

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the-doomed-witch · 10 months

Note

hey boo, can u make 1800's reader and married nat having secret affair but reader convinces nat to run away with her somewhere else where they can live and love peacefully, inspired by ivy and the lakes

MAGNIFICENTLY CURSED

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You question your need for running away with the woman you love passionately, but her dreamy desires do it for you anyway. // based on ivy by Taylor Swift; the lakes by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 1.0k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MINORS+MEN DNI. set in the 1800s, infidelity, homophobia + closeting, allusions to smut not really described, nat is like a whole ass poet bro i will cry 😭

SEND ME REQUESTS BASED ON TAYLOR SWIFT SONGS

Author’s Note: hi anon, i hope this justifies your request <3 obviously this is emisue-dead poets society-anne with an e-elizabeth bennet coded bc i’m a raging lesbian with an obsession with the 1800s for no reason at all🤭

MASTERLIST // NAVIGATION

— ✦ —

Stealing glances with Natasha was the glory of her. She was a distinguished woman, known to be married to one of the most revered men in town. The ladies at the lunch discussed stories of her well established marriage, but no one knew the truth except you, and Natasha.

Sometimes you would go to meet her, with the excuse of needing to talk with her clinquishly. Her husband was a fine fellow, a gentleman who’d welcome you to their warm domicile, and let you take your time alone with his wife.

On the days when your blood boiled with envy of his nauseating smile, you’d meet her in forbidden places, near rivers of estrangement, and away from the common folk.

She held no love for him, you weren’t oblivious like the neighbourhood women. What made you bitter was the way he was associated with her throughout the town. He was the one credited with your efforts of making her the happiest woman around.

Oh how you longed for Natasha to be known as your lady.

But it’s worth struggling for, when she touches your lips, when she kisses them, and when her hands entangle with yours. “My most beloved,” she addresses you every time before she dares to break the space between the two of you. You respond, “Yes, my lady.” before leaning in.

It’s been years of meeting Natasha in darkness and in delight, touching her as if speaking of poetry. Your hands find their place in the heat beneath her gown, leaving her to the euphoria of gushing. She does the same for you in return, sometimes sitting on her knees to have a peek of what her fingers feel.

You have a rendezvous in the privacy of her own house, while he’s patiently sitting on the porch, doing something like pretending to read a newspaper. She sighs loudly against your kiss, it’s almost romantical.

He knocks on the shut door, asking if everything was alright. You break your contact with her abruptly, and answer him with a loud, stern voice, “Yes, Natasha is trying a new corset I brought along with me. Nothing to worry about.” He walks away with not a single penny of care, unbeknownst to everything you could do only if his wife had her corset taken off.

“I sense something bizarre about you today, my love.” she remarks, pushing your back against the stone cold wall, opposite to which is sat the notorious husband. To think the two of you could be vulnerable within inches was a terrifying thought. “I don’t think standing here is a good idea..”

“What would he even do if he finds us out? He can burn this house all he wants, at least my death greets me with you in my arms.”

“Natasha…”

“Tell me what is troubling you, my Y/N. What is so tragical that I can’t take it away from you?”

Her poetic mouth never failed to leave you enraptured. “W- well, all I've thought of since the past nights is running away. I mean to take you along, but I’m troubled by all the presumed consequences.”

“You meaning to take me along is singularly the greatest thing I’ve heard. To be with my muse, in a place where all the poets went to die, is a privilege I'm blessed to have.”

“I don’t belong, and Natasha, neither do you, you understand it, and I know it. But going out into the wild, with no shelter to take? I’m worried to death.”

“Again, my beloved, at least death greets us with you in my arms. I don’t fear it.”

You entwine your finger in her fierce red hair, and pull her face close to yours till you can hear her breathe and feel her heart pound against your chest and tell her, “Your musings, God, they make me want to be with you all the time, alone. Your poetry is the sole reason I live, dearest.”

“You’re the sole reason my poetry lives. You’re my muse, Y/N.”

You push her against her vanity, with an attempt to taste her delicacy, this time not confining her sounds to your secrecy. You lift up your leg, to give Natasha a place for grinding slowly. The skirt of her apron is lifted, along with her pale yellow dress.

The door smashes open, with her husband walking in, “You’ve been alone for far too- What is going on here?!”

Natasha speaks in a fake pleading voice, “Sir, let me explain to you.” before she gives you a long kiss, and grabs your hand. She squeezes your palm, hinting you to follow her along.

His chin falls agape, the green nerves of around his wrist pop out, irefully.

“What monstrosity is this, Natasha? I thought you were a pristine lady, but evidently you’re a disgustful woman! You should be- Get away from her Y/N!” He comes forward to push you away, but she doesn’t let him finish, and runs out of the house with you.

You hold up your dress to make yourself a room to run with her through the fields. After fleeing for a while, you notice he has missed the trail. So she tugs your arm again, making you run till you reach the illustrious lake, till you’re out of breath.

She laughs as you hold her in an embrace, and screams towards the deserted forests and mountains on the other side of the lake, “I can feel the freedom in me. I can feel it in my blood!” Her voice echoes back at you.

You join her laughter, eyes filled with tears, and cry out, “I am in love with Natasha! I am a woman, and I wholeheartedly love another.” She pecks your lips repeatedly, till you can’t stop laughing and hold her blushing red cheeks away from yours, “We’ll find ourselves a home, we’ll find us a way to live. I promise you.”

You lace her gentle hands with yours. They’re cold with the breeze and the disquietude. You grasp her untamed heart, and she cleaves on to your pain.

#skye’s taylor swift themed drabbles #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow #black widow x you #black widow x reader

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nutluvs · 4 months

Text

musicians in love - fluff

javier escuella x fem!reader

hellooo! 🤍 🪻 this is my first rdr2 post! some things i should point out: • i take requests, i rarely do smut but i always do fluff and angst • requests can be of any rdr2 character, whether major or minor • expect a lot of posts of charles smith, he's my husband and i love him bunches. • i mostly do short writings, but i can also do headcanons if requested! 🪻 warnings for this piece: maybe a little sloppy; it's my first time writing for javier, don't yell at me. also i don't even know how long this is, but it's kinda long.

you never thought of yourself as a terrible singer—you felt you were alright. you just needed some rounding out over a few roughened edges, after you took a few years off of your singing practice. not only did you need practice, but you needed confidence to be what you truly wanted to be: a singer. out in front of crowds in bustling cities all over the country, that's where you wanted to be. you wanted to use your own voice to please the public and provide entertainment in the grand theaters. but you resorted to the life of an outlaw, making reckless decisions, and now you knew that you couldn't ever be something as wonderful as a singer. it brought you down more than anything.

however, with your good friend javier, you lightened up significantly. he knew what your struggles were. he had to go through these same feelings at least once, maybe twice. he sang too, and quite frequently. not often in english, no, but he taught you a few a thing or two, some mexican spanish songs mostly, and you'd harmonize. compliments of your voices flooded in from the listeners nearby once you finished your duet.

"ah. you learn well and fast, mi amiga." javier praised gently after the crowd dispersed, nudging his shoulder gently against yours. you smiled sheepishly at him, your cheeks blooming in a light pink hue. "oh, you flatter me, javier." you sighed out. his deep brown eyes softened at your flushed face, and he couldn't help the smile that etched onto his lips as well. how he wanted to tell you that he was eager for any attempt to make your heart race, but he was just unaware if you felt the same or not. he didn't want to get used to directing flirtatious spews of words at you, just to be turned down. it wouldn't be worth it. however, javier could never just.. ignore his feelings for you. you were a kind soul, soft and delicate with one of the prettiest voices he'd ever heard. you had talent in music, identifying chords and defining them well enough. it wasn't so easy to find a bandit possessing real musical talent like you. you also took good care of him. you had patience, listening to him when he needed to discuss anything that bothered his calmly flowing day, and you always provided advice whether or not the issue was big. he liked you a lot. but his worry of rejection was pushing his confidence down. you were perfect to him, and he didn't want this failed opportunity to seep down the drain. what he didn't know was that you felt very similar.

your eyes trained down to javier's scarred fingertips as they delicately and idly plucked at the guitar strings. you loved his passion for his instrument and the music played with it, you loved the soft tones of his voice as he drew a handful of folk in the gang with each lyric. it wasn't just his musical skill you loved, but you loved his care for the gang and his personality, loyal, friendly. only sometimes was he a bit arrogant... you could deal with it when he was, and it wasn't like you disagreed with his vain behavior. his eagerness to save john when he was up in the mountains after a grizzly wolf attack, how quick he went when bill got caught by bounty hunters. he wanted only the best for his close ones. javier was just perfect in your eyes. a wonderful friend, someone you wanted to keep. you wondered what it'd be like to keep him forever as your love. the man noticed your lingering gaze, and he hummed gently to catch your attention. you looked right up at him. those pretty eyes, swimming with a wholesome light. "what is it?" you asked. "nothing, nothing, no worries. you just looked like you were zoning out," javier answered, looking at the strings of his guitar again before back at you. "i know you have a tendency to do that..." he pointed out in a humorous tone, and you laughed. the way you smiled, and the sound of your laughter... damn it. he had to bite back a groan and look away to cover up the furious scarlet that rose to his cheeks. his heart pounded hard in his chest, and he thought you heard it due to how it thrummed. he wouldn't get over this love for you. now that he thought a bit more about his feelings, he learned had to confess at one point or another. he had to do it, even if he was shy. it would be whatever if you didn't like him back, you'd still be friends. "listen," javier started. "you're special to me. very special to me. it's.. weird, it is, but, you.. you are mi corazón. i love you dearly. this might be stupid to you, you might not love me back, but.. i just wanted to tell you." your lips remained parted in surprise as the, first sappy, then insecure words left his mouth. you began to grip and fist your skirt, looking at your knees shyly. you hadn't the words to reply, you were oh, so stunned. "i'd understand if you don't love me back." he blurted. you both remained quiet momentarily, but his confidence was contagious, and it bloomed in your belly as you leaned a little closer. at first you moved hesitantly, but your leaning turned to a needy lunge as you cupped his flushed cheeks in your soft palms. what happened next was a blur to the both of you—your lips meeting in a swift kiss. you flinched lightly when you felt his hand rest on your back, and you retracted. your eyes were wide and so were his, but eventually, his grew soft once more. he grinned, "so you do love me back."

ohh stupid love stories thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed <3

#theres a taylor swift reference .. or a few .. in here somewhere. squint and youll see them >:)#rdr2 x reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella rdr2 #fluff #nut's fluff 🪻

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jungle-angel · 1 year

Text

Hard Day’s Night (Miles Miller x Reader)

Summary: Miles has been to hell and back, but you never fail to show him what heaven looks like

BIG SMUT WARNING!!!!!!! 18+ only, minors DO NOT INTERACT

Miles ran a hand through his hair, hoping to God the other desk clerk would show up for his shift. Every last square inch of him ached, his head, his neck, his feet and his shoulders. His eyes had begun to sting, the weight of the previous night on his mind along with the nightmare that had kept him up until sunrise.

“Miles?” asked a familiar voice, a low southern drawl that was only heard every so often throughout the hotel.

Miles snapped awake when he felt the hand tapping his elbow. “George, I’m so sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t even know I was asleep.”

“Son, it’s perfectly alright, I understand,” Mr. Lawson assured him. “I didn’t sleep so well myself.”

Miles felt a little better but the embarrassment still lingered, hanging over his head like a little shadow that followed him everywhere. “I take it Richie didn’t show up?” Miles croaked.

“No and I think today’s the day I’m gonna cut him loose,” George answered sternly. “I can understand being absent for lengthy periods of time for health or family reasons, but the other day somebody caught the little devil out back smoking that skunk grass some of the longhaired folk like to smoke.”

“Was it you?” Miles asked him. “Maybe Tripp? Or Dan?”

“No, no it uh....it was Chase, that longhair who we took on as a groundskeeper,” Mr. Lawson explained. “He said he went to go and get some fresh air with his son this morning and could smell it behind the dumpster.”

Miles laughed a little. His new friend Chase, had been known to smoke the grass every once in a while, but in front of his own kids? He had told Miles he’d rather get shot than do that in front of them. Miles had been glad that Chase had taken Benny and Arlo for the weekend, but wished he could be spending more time with his parents and his son.

And especially you.

You had been on his mind all day and for the better part of the afternoon, the littlest things about you filling his mind to keep the stress from getting under his skin. Even now, six years after your marriage, you still gave Miles the feeling of butterflies in the stomach every time he saw you walk into a room.

Miles reluctantly clocked out only when George jokingly told Miles he’d beat him blue if he didn’t take a long weekend. Lucky for him, the Fourth was right around the corner which meant all the city dwellers would be coming to Lake Tahoe for the fireworks and celebrations that would last anywhere between three days and a week.

Miles shuffled his way back to the living quarters he shared with you, his parents taking up residence on the other side of the wall during the season. Miles heaved a sigh when he noticed the room was empty, the tears starting to fall from his eyes. He knew most days you wandered off on your own, sometimes heading off on the hiking trail near the hotel or heading downtown for just a few minutes. Yet somehow, the stress of the day had really gotten to him, weighing him down a little more than normal and making him feel as though he had fallen and hurt himself.

Miles went straight to the bathroom and ran the hot water, sitting on the edge of the tub as he pulled off his shoes, socks, jacket and tie. His fingers fumbled with the buttons on his white shirt, his eyelids heavy from the lack of sleep and the weight still sitting heavy on his shoulders. As soon as he slipped in and turned off the hot water, he felt it all melting away from his muscles, the aches and pains washing right away.

Miles felt his eyes fluttering shut, unable to fight the urge to sleep any longer, his heartbeat and breathing relaxing as he sank further into the water. It was only a second that he had seen the jungle, the rice paddies and the villages where his platoon had been, the people that dwelled there and the baby girl he had helped take care of while her mother and father were being treated by the company medic.

But soon, Miles’s dreams had turned to something better, memories of you, those long summer days and nights spent swimming in Lake Tahoe and of course, the hot, rainy summer night when Benny had been born. Miles felt his heart skip a beat when the memory of that night came flooding back, how shaky he had been, holding his precious little son who was already running and talking back at him.

When he finally awoke, Miles felt much less achy, a little heavy headed but feeling much better as he wrapped the towel around his waist. He went straight to the sink and ran the hot water again, pulling out his old shave kit from the Army that he had kept as an “heirloom”. Bullshit you little knucklehead.....he laughed to himself. You stole it right out from under their noses......

God it felt good when the coolness of the shaving cream hit his jaw, cheeks and neck, slathering it on until he had a coat of it thin enough to get rid of the stubble. It wasn’t until he had finished, washed off his face and put everything away in the medicine cabinet, that he felt a familiar sensation between his shoulders along with a mischievous giggle that reached his ears.

“Hi handsome,” you purred.

“And where have you been all day Mrs. Miller?” he chuckled.

“Out on the trail, looking for plants,” you answered, pressing another kiss to the bare skin on his back.

Miles’s hand trailed to yours as your arms coiled around his waist. “Doing better?” you asked him.

“Much better,” Miles sighed. “I slept a little after I clocked out. Still feel a little achy though.”

You kissed the spot again. “You want me to make you feel better?”

Miles felt his heart jump inside his chest. In those short six years of marriage, he knew what this usually led to. “Y-you want to?” he stammered. He was lucky he didn’t still have the shaving razor in his hand.

“Baby, you took care of me when I was in labor with Benny and after he was born,” you purred. “Let me take care of you for once.”

Miles felt the goosebumps beginning to prick on his skin as you ran your warm hands along his sides, his eyes shutting in complete bliss as your hands slowly went from his sides to his hips, trailing along his stomach and right to his crotch where he felt your hand gently wrapping around his length. Miles let out a blissful moan as you began working away, your gentle hands guiding him into that high that he knew he could only experience with you.

Your voice whispered sweet nothings in his ear as your hand worked away at the now evident hardness inside the towel wrapped around his waist. Miles could feel the heat flaring in his face, his hands, his chest and his stomach as you whispered those sweet but dirty words in his ear.

“Am I being good for you?” you whispered. “Hmm? Am I being good for my handsome guy?”

“You’re too good to me,” Miles whimpered, his mouth parted in complete bliss.

“Oh baby,” you murmured. “You’re being such a good boy for me.”

Miles could feel himself chasing that familiar high, your touches making the butterflies in his stomach almost overwhelming as he keened into your touch. His soft moans and whimpers were music to your ears as your hand worked away at his hardness. Your fingers had begun to feel a little wet, but that was nothing compared to the wetness that was beginning to build between your legs.

“You want a taste of me don’t you?” you cooed. “You want a taste of your pretty little wifey?”

Miles couldn’t take it anymore. He suddenly turned right around, picked you right up and stuck you on the edge of the sink, burying his face in your neck and dying to get a taste of you. You gasped when you felt that hardness enter you and so didn’t Miles.

“Baby,” he murmured as his lips trailed down the curve of your neck. “You’re so perfect......gotta get a taste of you honey.”

You felt him rutting into you, going deeper and deeper until you felt his hips closing against yours, the space between you practically nonexistent. Miles picked you right up off the edge of the sink and carried you straight to the bedroom, laying you down carefully with him still on top of you. He quickly attached himself to your neck but soon rolled onto his back with you straddling his waist on top of him.

“What do you want baby?” you asked him.

“You,” Miles whimpered.

You made a face as if he hadn’t heard you. “What do you want Miles?”

“You....”

“No......what do you want?”

“YOU!” Miles blurted out as a tear fell from his gentle blue eyes and his chin trembled a little.

You smiled lovingly at him as you took his hands in yours, placing them on your hips, slowly swaying back and forth on his throbbing cock, reveling in the soft whimpering and moaning that came from your husband, more so when you began sucking and gently biting at his chest. You felt him thrust up into you when your lips and your tongue brushed against his nipples. Finally, you felt him spill himself right into you, both of you riding out your high until you guided each other back down.

Miles sat himself up, still inside you as he pulled you close to his chest, his nose nuzzling against your reddened cheeks before he placed a kiss on each one. “You’re amazing,” he murmured.

You wanted to answer him but your head was almost spinning as Miles laid you on your back. When you tried to squirm off of his cock, he gently stopped you. “No, no baby,” he pleaded. “Please....please stay.”

You couldn’t say no, not to the pleading look in those eyes. You both laid on your sides, your gazes locked together with the two of you still joined together at the hips.

“Do you remember the last time we were like this?” Miles whispered, brushing a lock of your hair out of your face.

You smiled, recalling the memories in the back of your mind. “I couldn’t forget it if I tried,” you laughed.

“One gorgeous summer day,” Miles murmured. “Six years ago, the two of us.....my mother and father embarrassing the ever living hell out of us. It all led to the best things that ever happened to me.....you and Benny.”

You pressed a sweet kiss to his lips before he nuzzled your face. “I love you Miles,” you whispered.

“I love you too Mrs. Miller,” Miles replied. “I always will.”

#bad times at the el royale #miles miller #miles miller x reader #lewis pullman #lewis pullman x reader

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heresthestorymorningglory · 7 months

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Alright, now that Part 4 of Under Your Spell is posted; I just have to let the internet know a thing (because obviously if it's not on the internet it's not true)

But you. @ken-dom, my long lost twin, the sister I'm convinced I was supposed to have and never got (I have a lot of chosen sisters and you're now on that list whether you like it or not) There are not enough characters in a Tumblr text post to tell you, how. fucking. grateful. I am to have stumbled across your blog and by proxy your friendship by accident.

I started this blog 10 years ago...my life was very different then and I thought headed in a very different direction than where I ended up and I couldn't be more thankful that my life didn't turn out the way I had wanted back then. This blog was so active, and I posted very consistently, I'm not going into detail, but I wasn't in the best place then, and when I finally pulled myself out of that funk after about a year, this blog whet absolutely dormant. It went dormant because I thought I needed to be in that awful headspace to write anything good, to write at all; over the last ten yeas or so, and not for lack of trying, my love of writing while it never faded, I tried so hard to write and just couldn't, I have so many WIP pieces that will never see the light of day.

Then Barbie (just trust me) changed my life; that movie wasn't everyone's cup of tea, and I totally understand why, but for me, as an adult (and a child who had MANY Barbies and loved them) and yes I had a Ken and I loved him too.....this movie healed my inner child and my adult self in a way I can't even explain, and won't because I truly don't think anyone would understand anyway.

ANYWAY, all of that to say, it inspired me to start writing again, and while I was certain that this was going to be another failed attempt, I went for it anyway, and found Ken-dom's blog and the inspiration I needed; I've said it a thousand times, and if you follow me you've seen it, this woman's writing style is amazing, she puts so much care and time and thought into whatever she's working on and it translates into everything she does. Without her I wouldn't have had the courage to dive as deeply into writing again as I have. She introduced me to the Goosecord who are also just a wonderful bunch of people who make my life better just by being in it.

As I'm sure most of my fellow writers can understand, I get very in my head when writing a lot and doubt myself frequently. If it weren't for this group of folks (and one or two others outside) none of this would exist.

I tagged her in this (are you 🥹yet?) xD so all of that just to say thank you my fellow Goose enthusiast, you're the Healy to my Holland, the Six to my Fitz, the Driver to my reader (or vice versa) there's literally no one I'd rather be buried up to my neck in smut with and I'm coming for you in 2025 ❤️(Probably with a couple of my other chosen sisters in tow)

I'm certain I missed something but you get the idea xD

#internet friends #she's my long lost twin

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plasticfangtastic · 6 months

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Carnivorous Lamb ch. 4

A Homelander x M! OC fic

A/N: Happy reading, this chapter contains spicy scenes of slightly NTR nature, read at your own risk. this chapter its mostly smut lol...prev. chapter:

Tags: r18, ntr-ish, dubcon, age gap (HL is in his mid 20's, OC in his early 40's), DILF, priest kink, moral degradation, slowburn, top HL, Homie its a warning on its own.

Chapter 4

Early Spring

He was bad after all… that’s what his mother had said… that’s why his mother had smothered him… why she never stopped smothering him, why he made his father kill his mother.

He made people do bad things.

That’s why he argued with God about his calling… he must've been mistaken.

He kept people away, rid of all the pretty things in his life that were gonna do him no good but then he welcomed this one… all because he was so pretty.

Now he had broken him.

John would dissapear in the morning.

John would not come back for a long time.

The bruises he left would heal, no longer any proof that he had been here in the first place.

God spoke to him for the first time as he caught the boy on the news, his failures broadcasted for the nation to see.

He spoke with God for many dreamless nights until he understood his purpose.

On a perfect spring Monday morning he came back.

In his garden where the trees flowered readying to bring more peaches, Homelander took a step towards the building glad to see it had been painted recently.

“I should tie a bell on you.”

He almost fainted from the surprise, putting his books to the side, staring him down across the aisle.

“I could learn to knock.”

The priest smile warmly at him.

“I… I wanted to see you…” Amarello whispered.

“You wanted to see me?” he looked around as if he was speaking to somebody else and not at him.

“To know if you were alright? You left without saying goodbye… I was worried…”

The thought of him worrying for him washed away all the nerves off his being, he had done something awful to a man so kind, he had made him break his vows, made him accept his feelings and then dumped him like he was another floozy– he was special so why did he treat him like just another mud-person.

Amarello was nothing like the others… This was more than proof of that… that even after he abandoned him, he still missed him, he still worried for him.

Guilt settled quickly, knowing he had behaved so poorly to a man he should’ve appreciated. To a man who had so much space in his heart left but only for him.

The older man tore the space between them, approaching quickly just to check on the younger man.

“You've been fumbling quite a bit according to the news… have you been praying? You stopped coming for my advice so I assumed you didn’t need it anymore but I hope you still ask for some…” he bit his lips– Is my fault isn’t it? I don’t want you to feel like it's your fault, John… I did you wrong.”

A hand wearily reached for his face, cupping his cheek glad to be welcomed, glad that the lamb nuzzled his face against his sullied touch.

“I didn’t want to hurt you. I swear. I never meant to do that… I… please don’t think I am crazy, Father… I… I have this friend inside me… sometimes… sometimes he takes control. And he’s good! but he’s angry… He has to be stronger and smarter than anybody else, even me… to protect us… he… he’s so angry… and we do these awful things…”

“It doesn’t matter, my son.”

He pulled him closer wanting to hold him in his arms, but choosing not to.

“Tell me what burdens you so heavily that you’re failing to uphold your end of the deal.”

“...end of the deal?”

“God gave you these powers for a reason… your purpose in life is to use them… not to squander them, not so you could fail at rescuing folks from a burning building… It’s my fault, no?”

His hand retreated, ashamed of touching him as those blue eyes watched him in confusion, hands creeping to the sides of the man as soon as he felt him pullign away, he wouldn’t let him go far, Homelander wanted him here with him, wanted to decipher his words with minimal effort.

“You had nowhere to put your burdens because of me… what I did to you… what I made you do… I promise I’ll help you get better…”

“It was…?”

“Is my fault that our lord its turned away from you… why all this awful had befallen you” His once light voice grew heavy– I asked for guidance, I asked and asked until I ran out of breathe to understand what I had to do to help you if you ever came back…”

A mind could conjure a hundred strange things but not more stranger than this priest bizarre words, his gaze so dead he wasn’t sure if this was a fever dream, he sunk into his shoulders, catching a whiff of his scent, wrapping his arms around him, Amarello lacked any hesitation returning his gestures with affection breathing in the clean scent of his soft John– he had made him sick, he thought.

Hence why he had become so sloppy, why he had become a caped danger, even if they saw him as great and pure, he could tell by the mountainwork of propaganda being spouted by Vought to make every mistake appear not so bad, that he was being abandoned by their heavenly father.

Remedy his mistake… he had to by any means.

“You don’t think there’s anything wrong with me…? You don’t think–

“You’re good. You should be good… there’s nothing of you that was carved wrong…. let me help you stay good.” he whispered so quietly, Homelander could’ve missed it if he hadn’t been eager to receive his compassion.

Homelander nuzzled his neck, his lips parting to take in the heated skin, his hand tugging on the cloth.

“All the disease festering in you… let me take it with me… let me carry it for you…”

His taste was sweet, as sweet as his words and his touch, as sweet as peach flowers, this body twisting and learning, adapting and molded to his needs, fast and shallow thrust fill him as the Supe continues to flourish inside of him, his body numb and hazed as the nonstop stimulation continues– as he seeks to build rivers inside him, as he seeks to flood him with all the terrible things that he held back until he’s returns as a blank slate.

Bloodied kisses return old bruises, more handprints tattooed his hips and thighs, as he squeezes and lifts him, as he continues to slam himself with wet grunts, the room echoes every wet sounds, every squeak and mewl that escapes the priest, the doors unlock and for a moment he worries that a choir member will walk in on them, if his usual drunks will walk in on them, if another lost soul would find them… how would he explain that this is not corruption– that this is spiritual medicine? or better say… ritualistic purification.

How to explain as the young men hoist him on top of him stroking his cock as his body grows limp around his shoulders, leaving his sins in the only way God would let him?

Nobody finds him, nobody finds them as the young man cleans him, his tongue savoring the mixture, tongue digging the overly stimulated entrance, it puffs and opens around his lips, crying as his body wants more, his body that’s so weak and wasted somehow craves for more and he has to stop himself from going down that train of thought.

This is merely a duty… he cannot feel pleasure from this, he cannot reward himself with the flesh, this is just the way this messenger had opted to dispose of the sinful seed, of the germinating evil within.

He’s left full of his hate and this numbing heat in his stomach, his ears unable to listen to the words of the young Homelander as he kisses his nape relentlessly.

#homelander #homelander x oc #homelander fanfiction #homelander x male oc #my fic tag #personal #this chapter its nice and short

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wonderwomanfantasy · 3 years

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Stress relief

mind your bisnuess I’m working through some shit

Atsumu x reader

warnings: smut, just- so much smut, Oral, car sex, fingering, Daddy kink, degradation, marking, ass play, dirty talk,Brat taming, slut shaming AND virgin shaming (we got it all folks), hair pulling, cum play, creampie, breading kink, drinking/ Drunk sex, angst annnnnd swearing.

word count: 4,800 (about) (yes really get off my back)

summary: Atsumu is a dick, but he’s got a good dick at least you have no idea how mad I am I’ve already used the title Enemy with Benifits.

“Are- Are you fucking kidding me?” you asked, Atsumu just shrugged.

“No, I’m not fucking kidding you what’s your deal?” he said casually. You took a deep breath. You had been trying to work on your anger issues, Not blowing up on people over nothing. But this really felt like something worth blowing up over.

“Myia, be honest with me, do you think I’m stupid?” you asked. He smirked.

“I think you’re a lot of things babe-” you stood up getting in his face jabbing your finger in his chest cutting off his no doubt horrendous flirting.

“You fucking ripped off you’re entire part of the project! How the fuck did you think no one would notice?” you shouted. You had known this was going to be a train wreck the moment Atsumu was assigned as your partner. He was such a fucking moron, he’d only gotten into this College because of his sports scholarship. You would have been better working on your own.

“I cited the article I copied, what's the deal?” he snapped, the volume of your voice irking him.

“That’s not how this fucking works you can’t just hit copy-paste and call it a day the point is you come up with your own ideas, although in your defense I’m not sure you’re brain could manage something like that,” you shouted. He sneared.

“I’ll rewrite it just stop being a bitch alright?” he scoffed, turning to leave your dorm room. You wanted to hit him, how dare he call you a bitch when you were just looking out for his dumb ass. Even high schoolers knew you’d be expelled for plagiarising. Once Atsumu left you slumped back in your seat looking at the presentation open on your laptop. You were already so busy but somehow you’d have to find enough time to do half of the project unless you wanted to fail that was.

“Hey, you’re working with (y/n) on your project right?” Osamu asked, setting his volleyball up in the air over and over again.

“Yeah, they totally blew up on me today so now I gotta redo the whole thing,” Atsumu sighed

“They’re hot though,” his brother said. Atsumu smiled to himself, remembering your angry face as you chewed him out.

“Really hot,” he agreed.

“Are you gonna fuck them?”

“Of course, they might an asshole but they want me,”

“Hey (y/n),” you looked up at the sound of your name only to groan seeing Atsumu run towards you. He had clearly just come from practice, he was still in his jersey. Fucking jocks.

He probably thought he looked hot, with a light sheen of sweat that made his skin glow and tousled hair. He did look hot, it made you want to kick his shins.

“If you aren’t going to tell me that you finished your half of the presentation I don’t want to hear it,” you snapped.

“Well then you aren’t going to be happy then but there’s a game this weekend, you should come, cheer for me,” he said winking. You rolled your eyes.

“I was already planning on going, but you’re nuts if you think I’m gonna cheer for you,” you snapped, still a little heated about your last encounter with him.

“And why not?” he asked, smirking, it pissed you off. You just knew he thought he looked so cute smiling at you like that.

“I cheer for winners,”

You and Atsumu were at each other’s throats for the rest of the year. Atsumu Gave up on his plan to sleep with you and you gave up on your anger management, at least around him. If other people were in this situation they might stay away from their sworn enemy, but not you two.

You made it to every volleyball game just to tell Osamu how great he did and how handsome he was looking today. Atsumu sat next to you in every class you shared talking your ear off making sure that you didn’t learn a damn thing.

It was annoying as hell, you wanted to strangle him, but it was nice in a kind of way. If you were stressed or pissed off you could drag Atsumu as a little fun. And even if nothing else in your life was going right. You could always count on this blonde dick to be the worst to you.

“Damn we had the exterminator here last week but there’s a roach right here,” Atsumu sneered over the thumping music at the party. You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“You need to look up more insults you’ve already used that one,” you barked back, normally seeing Atsumu would be enough to dampen your mood but the booze must have been doing its job because you still felt all light and buzzed.

“Beer?” he asked, holding up a bottle for you, ever the gracious host.

“I’m good,” you said holding up the can of seltzer you’d been drinking out of it was fruity and only had a little bite to it, you were already on your third one.

“Right I forgot that a baby like you couldn’t handle the taste of beer,” he scoffed, he was closer now, towering over you and pressing one of his forearms to the wall by your head as he leaned over you, shielding you from the rest of the party. You never realized before how big he was. Tall and wide. Muscular too, it was no wonder half the people at the Volleyball games creamed themselves just seeing him.

“You’re such a dick, why do you always have to be so mean?” you asked before even realizing the words that you’d spoken.

“You aren’t exactly nice either princess, besides that’s how this works, that’s our dynamic,” he said. He must be pretty drunk too. Nothing he was saying was making any sense.

“Still, how do you expect anyone to put up with you when you’re such a douche bag all the time?” you said the anger you associated with Atsumu finally setting in.

“If it works it works, I mean you’re obsessed with me,” he said. You gagged and shoved his chest, he didn’t move, god how strong was he?

“Fuck off I hate you, why would I be obsessed with you? God you think that the world fucking revolves around you. How could any-”

His lips met yours effectively shutting you up. His hand came up cupping the back of your head and you couldn’t help but melt into the kiss, pressing your body against his and dropping your drink so your hands would be free to rake through his hair. You weren’t nice about the kiss either, your teeth gnashed against his when he tried to push his tongue into your mouth. You bit his lower lip and tugged at his hair, moaning against his mouth when he did the same to you.

He broke away breathlessly, still holding you close to his body while you caught your breath. He was so pretty his cheeks flushed his lips wet and glossy. God, you wanted to kiss him again, even if he tasted like beer and he had been right in his assessment that you weren’t a big fan of the taste.

“Good to know theirs one way to shut you the fuck up,” he teased. You groaned in frustration pulling him back down into another kiss. This one was just as passionate and fierce as the first. He pushed you against the wall and pulled up one of your legs and forced it around his waist so he could grind against you. You shuddered feeling him rut the seam of your jeans against your clit.

“Woulda fucked you a lot sooner if i'd known you made such pretty noises when you were touched,” he muttered reaching up and palming your breast through your shirt. Atsumu started kissing, or maybe biting was a better word. The top part of your neck even pays some attention to your jaw and earlobe while he humped and groped you.

“I knew you were a pervert but I never knew you were filthy enough to fuck me out in the open like this,” you gasped, tugging at his hair. You could feel your panties get sticky with your arousal and you wanted him to take you out of here and fuck you already.

“You’re gonna let me fuck you?” he asked, pulling back so he could look at you and smirk. You smiled back, the fight wasn’t out of you yet.

“Why would I do that? I’d rather sleep with someone who could make me cum,” you spat and his grin quickly fell, there was a competitive fire in his eyes that you normally only saw when he was playing.

“Oh Daddy’s gonna make you cum you fucking brat, I’ll make you squirt, you’re gonna cry with how good my dick feels,” he growled in a low voice you’d never heard before and suddenly you were regretting your comment.

“Daddy?” you snorted

Atsumu detangled himself from you and grabbed you by the wrist tugging you out of the frat house and to his car. You shook your head and broke free of his iron-clad grasp.

“I know you’re stupid but this is a new low, both of us are way too drunk to drive,” you shouted. Atsumu just laughed at you, opening the back door to his car.

“We aren’t driving dumbass now get in,” he said. You bit your lip and slid into the back seat shortly followed by Atsumu who locked the door behind him.

The seat wasn’t large but it was big enough to move around in. He pressed you onto the leather upholstery, your legs bent and splayed out at an awkward angle to fit him between them. He went back to kissing you sloppily while his hands went to work taking off your shirt and bra.

Your nipples hardened once the cold night air touched you. “Wanted to suck on your pretty tits for the longest time,” he groaned quickly lowering his head, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth while he fingered the other twisting and pinching it. You yelped when his teeth grazed over the bud. His eyes flicked up to yours and he let go of the spit-soaked nipple blowing on it lightly making you shiver.

“How long has it been since you’ve been fucked huh? So many guys want to fuck this sweet little pussy but you’re too stuck up to let that happen.” he snears sucking the other nipple into his mouth.

“Bet you’re still a fucking virgin,” he said speaking around your mouth.

“ I a-am not,” you whined, you’d lost your virginity in high school, but you really hadn’t gotten fucked since then.

“Oh listen to you whine you totally are,” he scoffed

“No I’m Not!” you protested he let go of your nipple and kissed you again threading his fingers through your hair and pressing your face to his.

“Shut up you fucking virgin,” he said sweetly, before pulling off his shirt, and before you could admire his chiseled chest he distracted you by biting your neck again. You pressed your hand to the center console to keep from slipping off with one hand and clinging to his shoulders with the other.

Atsumu deftly unbuttoned your jeans and shoved his hands in your pants touching your through your soaked underwear. You felt him smirk against your neck but he didn’t make any remark about it. Good thing for him too because you could feel his hard prick pressing up against your thigh and you were ready to drag him for it if he commented on your own arousal.

God, you could feel his cock. It was big, heavy, and hard, pressed against your leg. You wanted to see it, touch it, feel it inside of you. He’d pushed your panties to the side now so he could push his large fingers inside brushing against your velvet walls.

“A-Atsumu,” you said, pitching your leg up to rub against his dick. “I want to suck your cock,” you whimpered. You felt him twitch.

“Here I thought you were a virgin but you’re just a slutty whore aren't cha?” he growled against your neck picking your hips up and yanking your pants down your legs leaving them pooled around your ankles leaving you to kick your jeans off completely. You felt a little stupid naked except for your shoes but Atsumu quickly distracted you by folding you in half pressing your knees to your chest and leaving your pussy completely exposed.

“I’ll fuck your throat later, right now I gotta make you cum remember?” he said playing his hands over your thighs keeping g you folded before lowering his head and diving into your folds like a man starved.

Just like he kissed you, he was mean about it, sucking so harshly that you cried out and spanking your cunt just to make you jump. The only time he pulled back was to spit on your asshole lubing it up enough to slip a finger inside.

“Sumu please,” you cried out as he filled you with his tongue pressing against your G-spot over and over again while he pinched your clit. You weren’t even sure what you were begging for. He just hummed in acknowledgment, whatever you were begging for he wasn’t going to have it.

“Daddy,” you pleaded, finally caving. Atsumu smiled to himself. He wasn’t nice but he did reward good behavior.

He switched it up sucking your clit into your mouth and plunging the fingers of his clean hand, the one that hadn’t just been your ass, inside of you curling up and pressing against your g-pot over and over again until you came screaming so loud that you were sure people back at the house could hear you.

“See didn’t that feel good slut?” he cooed condescendingly. There was a pool of cum beneath you soaking into the leather seats. Good thing this was Osamus’s car. Now all he had to do was make you cry.

“I-I’m not a slut,” you whined.

“Oh? Which is it? Are you not a virgin or are you not a slut?” he asked, squeezing your cheeks. You didn’t know how to respond.

“Well I think you’re a slut, Daddy’s little slut,” he snapped.

There was a dark stain of precum staining his jeans where the head of his cock was leaking he quickly shoved down his pants and boxers before sitting down and pulling you into his lap. You hovered above him as he pumped his cock in his hand running the head of his cock through your soaked folds and bumping your clit.

“You’re gonna be a good whore and ride Daddy’s cock right?” he asked, lining the head of his dick up with your entrance. You bit your lip and nodded, shakily lowering yourself down on him. Atsumu hissed feeling your tight heat wrap around him.

You gripped his shoulders feeling how well he filled you up, the tip pressing against your cervix. You took a minute to adjust before lifting yourself up on your knees and started to fuck yourself onto him.

Atsumu brought you close and kissed you again, one of his hands slipping between your bodies to stroke your clit while you bounced up and down on his cock. You couldn’t help but moan into his mouth as he touched you. He filled you up so well, you had teased him about not being able to get you off but even you couldn’t deny how good it felt to have him so deep inside of you.

“You feel that baby? You feel Daddy pressing up against your Cervix, I’m going to blow my fat load right into your slutty little womb,” he snarled his hips snapping up to meet yours. You whined, throwing your head back in pleasure, almost hitting your head on the headrest.

“Gonna knock you up, gonna stuff this slutty pussy with cum,” he growled, he was talking more to himself but you couldn’t help but shudder at his words. You were on birth control but you desperately wanted him to fill you up.

“Are you gonna cum princess?” He asked, “I can feel your cunt squeezing my cock like that, you’re gonna cum.” He was right, you could feel a second orgasm welling up in your core as his cock pulsed inside of you.

“Atsumu-Daddy, I’m gonna cum,” you moaned kissing him sloppily, your hips faltered when you came but Atsumu’s hands went to your hips moving your body for you as he chased his own high, true to his word he came deep inside of you filling you up and pressing his cock against your cervix.

You collapsed against his chest gasping for breath. He ran his hand soothingly over your back.

“You look tired, you wanna crash somewhere babe?” he asked.

“We’re still too drunk to drive,” you murmured.

“I have a buddy in the frat house, I’m sure he’ll let me steal his bed for the night, especially for a cutie like you,” he said. You pulled back to look at him.

“You had a bed here this whole time and you still made me fuck you in the car?”

When you woke up your whole body hurt. Your head ached your eyes stung and your body was littered with bruises. You didn’t even want to check in with the lower half of your body. You groaned sitting up in bed clutching your head. Then you felt the bed beside you shift, you froze remembering how you’d ended last night.

Atsumu cracked one eye open and his face split into a huge grin. “I had the best dream last night-” he teased you and moved to hit him but he caught your wrist and flipped you on your back pinning you to the bed.

He hovered above you his breath hitting your face in soft puffs. You leaned up and kissed him, suddenly you were a mess of limbs and hands trying to tear each other’s clothes off while you kissed. You hissed as his fingers grazed the bite marks on your neck.

“Go easy on me I’m still sore,” you complained. Atsumu smirked.

“Did I wreck you that badly baby?” he asked, teasingly grinding his morning wood on your leg. You shuddered.

“Shut up and fuck me asshole,” you demand. He tugged off your underwear and hooked your legs over his shoulders.

“As you wish your majesty,” he scoffed and slowly pushed two of his fingers into you

Your cunt ached and it hurt to feel his fingers prod you open, but soon the pain dissolved into pleasure as he continued to finger you.

“Such a pretty wet little cunt, so wet and sticky for me,” he purred, “you like this slut? You like getting fingered first thing in the morning?” he asked.

“Do you like humping my ass like a fucking dog first thing in the morning?” you spat back. He grunted and roughly jerked his finger up hitting your G-spot making you cry out your back arching off the bed.

“That’s what I thought,” he scoffed before completely pulling his fingers out and sticking them into his mouth sucking on your juices.

“I’m not gonna fuck you if you keep being mean,” he said shoving down his own clothes

“Shut up, I bet I’m the only one you know who lets you get your dick wet,” you growled. He snapped into you in one swift motion. You cried out your nails digging into his shoulders. It hurt but the pain sent a rush of endorphins making you moan.

“Really you think that I could fuck you like this without any practice dollface? Don’t forget you’re the virgin here,” he teased drawing his hips back before ramming back into you. This pace was much harsher than what you’d set last night. You were helpless, and entirely at his mercy, he had you folded in half, and you could only moan and scratch at his back.

“Imna fill this cunt with cum, nothing better than emptying my balls in your warm cunt first thing in the morning,” he muttered to himself as he continued to fuck you.

“Already?” you teased.

“Fuck off or I’ll fuck you until you pass out,” he threatened.

“Hurry up and make me cum, I’ve got shit to do today,” you snapped.

“God do you ever stop being a bitch?” he asked, pulling out of you and flipping you over, jerking your hips up and sliding back into you. you moaned feeling his cock hit new sweet spots. You arched your back pressing your hips to his and burying your face into the pillows.

The bed creaked with the force of his thrusts, the headboard hitting the wall with a loud bang. Atsumu brought his hand down on your ass making you jump, it stung and you were reminded of his killer serves that you had seen so many times.

“There, no more bitchy comebacks? Have you gone braindead on my cock?” he mocked spanking you again.

“Daddy!” you pleaded. Your thighs trembling as wetness dripped down your legs.

“Awe theirs my sweet little slut, ready to be good now?”

“Y-yes,” you whined desperate to cum. Atsumu grunted and finally went easy on you, rubbing your clit and easing into you in slow, deep thrusts until he felt your pussy cream around him.

“There you go baby,” he said pulling out of you, his hard cock dripping in your juices. “You still want to suck on my cock?” he asked. You bit your lower lip, embarrassed at the memory. You shifted on the bed settling in between his legs taking the head of his cock into your mouth and wrapping your hands around the rest of his dick.

You licked softly at the slit in the head picking up the bitter precum with your tongue. You slowly took more of his cock in your mouth hollowing your cheeks out around him. His dick was just too big for you to fit completely into your mouth so you moved your hands up and down his shaft while you took as much of him as you could, swirling your tongue around the head.

“You’re doing so well baby,” he moaned, smoothing your hair back from your face. “I didn’t think a virgin like you’d be so good,” he teased. You glared up at him as you continued to suck his dick but you resolved to bite him if he made a comment like that again.

“I think I like you better like this you’re so pretty when you shut the- OW watch the teeth,”

You could taste it as the precum dribbled out of his cock smearing over your tongue, you were getting used to the bitter taste and it wasn’t that bad. You pushed your head down pressing his cock to the back of your throat suppressing your gag reflex.

“Fuck, baby just like that i’m going to cum down your thoat,” he groaned his hips stuttering upwards pushing his dick down your throat deaper making you choke. Atsumu didn’t care,he was moaning loudly as his hips spasmed up into your mouth.

You choked when his semen flooded your mouth. “Fuuck,” he sighed, pulling out of your mouth. You sluptered trying to catch the mess that bubbled out of your mouth.

“Ah, swallow what you can baby,” Atsumu said, whipping your chin with his thumb. You did as he asked, choking down what you could. He pushed you back on the bed kissing your neck, his lips running over your bruises,

“I like you like this, we should fuck more often he teased,” you shoved his chest, but weakly, it was clearly just for show. You didn’t want to admit it but you agreed with him.

You kept seeing Atsumu after that. He was a little nicer with you normally. Or at least, he saved his mean side for the bedroom and was a little sweeter to you. If you were a little more naive you might have even started to fall for him a little bit.

That was the Chliche right? You start out hating someone but then after a few nights of passion you were in love? Bullshit, it was all Bullshit.

you knew Atsumu hadn’t changed, and he wasn’t exactly saving himself for you. You couldn’t count how many times you’d walked in on him making out with some random chick, you’d even walked in on him while he’d been balls deep in some other girl.

That being said, you hadn’t changed either. you still had a temper like no other and were quick to snap, especially at Atsumu. You didn’t have many friends who put up with your bullshit so why would He even fall in love with you?

You shouldn’t be in love with him. He was an asshole, a heartless fuck boy. So why did you like him so much? why did it sting when you thought about how hopless your whole situation.

It sucked, this whole thing was just awful. That being said, you still jumped at the chance to see him everytime he called, you really were hopless.

“Where are we going?” you asked as Atsumu drove. You didn’t recognize this street and you knew you weren’t going to his place.

“It’s a surprise,” he said. You scoffed and crossed your arms. He pulled into a parking lot and you were surprised to see you were at a park.

“What are you going to fuck me on the slide?” you asked, following him out of the car and into the park.

“I used to come here all the time when I was a kid, me and my brother would play here,” he said, ignoring you and walking to the swings, you followed.

“And I still come here a lot, it’s a good place to think and it’s just a really special place for me,” he said sitting on the swing and gesturing for you to sit on his lap.

You did, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. “I don’t like where this conversation is going,” you said furrowing your eyebrows. It was almost the middle of the night so it was dark but you could still see the dopey lovestruck look on his face.

“Stumu, you’re not supposed to call me for stuff like this,” you said unwrapping your arms around his neck, you were going to get off his lap but he wrapped his arms around his waist keeping you there.

The two of you had agreed only to call each other when you wanted sex, this mushy romantic shit was defently not sex.

“You’re so pretty baby, let me be nice to you,” he said kissing you and you melted into him, just like every time he kissed you.

“You’re never nice to me,” you protested. He reached under your shirt groping you.

“Because you never let me,” he protested.

“What’s with you?” you asked, grabbing his wrist and shoving him away from you.

“I love you,” he said. You couldn’t deal with this right now, you got off his lap and started walking back to the car

“Take me home,” you demanded. “I don’t want to talk about this,” you said.

“(y/n)-” he said running in front of you stopping you.

“Please, I know you hate this shit, but please can we talk,” he pleaded taking your hands in his,

“You can’t just say shit like that Tsumu! We’re not supposed to love each other we’re supposed to fuck and get under eachother’s skin and fight that’s how this works!” you shouted.

Atsumu kissed your knuckles, seeming to ignore your yelling.

“We didn’t used to fuck either, we used to just get under eachother’s skin,” he pointed out. He wrapped you in his arms. You pressed your face to his chest and you felt your cheeks get wet with tears. You hiccupped and sobbed, trying to keep your emotions bottled up was hard.

“I love you,” he said again. You shoved him and whipped your face.

“I don’t want to do this Atsumu, take me home,” you demanded. He deflated.

“Okay baby, let's go home, I’ll be waiting, when you’re ready,” he said rubbing your shoulders and taking you back to his car.

You drove in silence. You hated this. Yout hated him. Atsumu was a playboy, an idiot and an asshole who only cared about Volleyball. You just wanted to insult him and fuck him to blow off steam. You weren’t supposed to fall for him. You weren’t supposed to love his cocky smile and his stupid jokes. His stupid flirty remarks weren’t supposed to make you blush.

“Baby?” he prompted you blinked and saw you were sitting in front of your dorm building. “Hey,” he purred, wiping the tears off your cheeks. You didn’t need him to tell you that he loved you, you could tell every time he did something like this. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch.

“I really wished we’d had sex tonight,” you whispered. He laughed.

“fuck am I really that ireaistable doll?” he teased, pinching your cheek as he pulled away.

“I do love you Atsumu, I just- I just don’t know what to do about it,” you admitted. Atsumu smiled lazily.

you meant it too, you loved him so much. but it was impossible to get the image of the time you walked in on him sleeping with another girl out of your mind. Was that what it meant to be in a relationship with him? If so then you weren’t going to do it, you weren’t signing yourself up for that kind of heartbreak. Maybe you should just give up on him and block him.

“Like I said. I’ll wait for you, and next time I promise we’ll have the best sex of your life-Not that’s a hard bar to clear you virigin,” he teased. You smiled and playfully hit him in the arm. You got out of his car and walked into your building as he drove away, and at least for tonight. That was enough.

#haikyuu atsumu #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu x female reader #atsumu x you #atsumu x reader smut #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!!

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party-gilmore · 3 years

Text

...well, I managed to get to literally JUST BARELY before the actual smut starts, so please enjoy this unbetaed 2k word teaser prologue of "demi/grayace Parker doesn't feel like she's Enough for Eliot without Hardison around, so he sets the record straight."

Set during The Hurricane Job, because who gives a damn if the ep is even OUT yet, am i right? XD

“Room 236.”

“What was that?” Eliot hums. His voice is muffled beneath the heavy, sopping weight of his jacket as he tugs the damn thing over his head. His shirt peels off right along with it, so he just shucks the whole shebang in the generic direction of his luggage. He’ll have plenty of time to see to it properly tomorrow - the storm will have them trapped at least another day. With a groan, he stretches out his bad shoulder. It’s not quite dislocated again, but it’s not quite right either. Two nimble hands sneak up from behind and flit their way over the shoulder blade, one bracing against the wet neck of his white tank top while the other presses swift and hard on the joint - and ‘pop’ goes the weasel.

Eliot flashes Parker a pained but soft smile through the old dresser mirror, but it falters when he catches her eyes peeking over his shoulder. There’s a look in them he isn’t familiar with, but doesn’t think he likes.

“Park-” he starts to turn around, but she manhandles him back away from her and shoves her hand into the back pocket of his jeans. No small feat tonight, they way the rain has soaked and damn near suction cupped them to his ass. “H-hey, woah, alright there darlin’, slow it down a bit,’ he chuckles, reaching back to feel for her, but she’s already hopping back and flashing a small, colorful rectangle at him.

“Room 236,” she repeats, flipping it around her fingers like a coin. Eliot frowns. They’re in room 225, just down the hall. They’d found what the crooked cops were after with time to spare, so there was nowhere left to search. Why then, would he still have a room key for-

Oh. He reaches back and pats the offending rear pocket, flushing as he remembers Marshall Shipp’s parting flirtatious wink and accompanying gentle smack on the ass as they’d parted ways a half hour ago. He hasn’t exactly been… discouraging her interest. It's felt good that women are still interested in him even as he’s put a few more miles on, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the attention - especially from someone as 'his type' as Maria.

Well, what used to be his type, at least.

He shoots a sheepish, apologetic grin at Parker. Maria’s ‘interest’ was quickly becoming ‘intent,’ and now Eliot needed to find a way to nip that in the bud sooner rather than later.

“Damn, I should’ve noticed the reverse lift,” Eliot clears his throat, toying with the edge of the pocket absentmindedly. “She must’ve slipped it to me after we completed the radio broadcast. I was uh, distracted by our success I guess.”

“Bet that’s not all she’d like to slip you,” Parker’s voice takes on a bit more of a playful tone for a moment. Cheeky, teasing. It feels like solid ground.

“Hey now,” Eliot teases back, starting to undo his belt, slow and deliberate, as he begins toeing out of his boots. “I can’t help that I still ‘got it,’ darlin’. I can think of a couple folks I know offhand that might like to, uh… 'slip me a little something' right now, 'specially since I'm properly alone with one of 'em for the first time since-” The only problem is, he forgot how damn difficult these boots are to get off on a good day, let alone when soaked through with salt water. Swearing under his breath, he abandons his attempt at being suave to sit at the end of the bed and fumble with the ties. He should know better than try to look cool for either of his partners nowadays. It never works out quite right, and he’s starting to get to the age where he doesn’t even see the use of that kind of posturing anymore himself. They’ve seen him at his worst already - mentally, physically, emotionally - so what would be the point, really? On top of that, he may make a fuss about his ‘cool points’ in front of Breanna, but he knows Hardison’s sneaky ‘dorkification’ process he's been slowly contaminating Eliot with over the last decade is almost complete. He's still drawing the line at DnD, but he doubts that'll last much-

“...or, if you wanted, you could go let her slip it to you.”

Eliot is too caught up in his own head to really register the suggestion at first. He's busy ruminating on how differently his younger self would be handling this whole situation - all smooth moves and hot edges, shucking off clothing with a kind of casual grace.

‘Yeah, those days have long passed,’ he thinks, hunched over and fighting the waterlogged leather of his boots with fumbling, aching fingers. He gets the first one yanked off his foot less than gracefully, wincing at his ankle’s unsubtle protest, before what Parker said finally processes.

Slowly, he sets his singular boot the side and shifts enough to face her. Parker’s tone didn’t hold any bitterness or bite, just nervousness and a bit of resignation. She isn’t looking at him, but out the window, arms wrapped tight around her midsection in a way he hasn’t seen her do in a while. She bounces restlessly on her heels. There’s a clear energy inside her looking to get out. The thunder rumbles lowly through the suddenly silent room, murmuring a warning through the curling reverberation in Eliot’s gut.

He starts out gentle. Easy.

“...now why would I wanna go an’ do somethin’ like that?” Sometimes it’s easiest to bring things to Parker head on, and she’ll respond in her usual stark, frank manner. Just lay it all right out in the open to be picked apart. This isn’t one of those times. Eliot can read that much in every restless tap, every rapid twitch of her eyes to some place else in the room, any place that isn’t him.

“She’s your type, isn’t she?” Parker’s voice is a higher register than it should be, but not quite into her panicking zone yet. That’s a start. “She’s badass, sexy… passionate.”

Eliot notices her leaning heavy on that last word, and frowns.

“So are you, Parker.”

“Not in the same way!” She turns a bit, still looking outside, but her arms unwrap from herself to gesture between them. “Not the same way you and Hardison are!”

It’s quiet for another beat. The white noise of the hissing rain against the window settles into the room with a steady, thrumming tension. Eliot doesn’t jump to demanding clarification like he might’ve done a decade ago, doesn’t snap and tell her to stop beating around the bush. He’s learned that Parker tucks away all the information he needs to understand in every phrase, no matter how inane or incongruent it may seem. So Eliot holds his tongue and chews on the words for a while.

“Me and Hardison, huh?” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and rubs his jaw in a performance of pensiveness. The movement draws Parker's attention and she finally looks over to him, following the back and forth of his fingers. He presses on, carefully. “Thought we were talkin’ bout me and the marshall. What’s Alec got to do with this?”

“Because he isn’t here!” Parker breaks, not enough to falter or crumble but enough to say what's on her mind before she can overthink it. "He isn't here and it's different! I can feel it! I'm not-" she fumbles her words for a minute, just waving between them again. "-all passionate about the whole sex thing like he is!"

There's that word again. Eliot knows where to go from here, at least. It's all about that word. He stands up, albeit a little awkwardly with one foot still in an inch high boot.

"Sure it's fun and I like it sometimes, but not like you two do! Alec balanced me out, could give you what you needed! I'm not… by myself, I'm not enough for… for y-..." Parker cuts herself before she can grow any more manic, bunching her face up and looking away again like she does when trying to stave off any waterworks before they can start.

Eliot can see her closing up again as her words fail her, but that's alright. What needed to get out made it out. He can take it from here. He hobbles over in his awkward, single-socked gait until he's close enough to take her shoulders in hand, but he doesn't pull her in for the hug. Not yet.

"Now I want you to listen to me, and listen good." Eliot makes sure his tone is firm, but gentle. Parker responds the way he'd hoped - still not looking, tilting her head down, but leaning toward him. Into his space. Receptive, and ready to hear him. "Yeah, it feels different. That's cause you and me? Are different from me and Alec. We're always gonna be. 'That makes us, us,' remember? Just like that's different from you and Alec. It's all part of 'us,' yeah, but it's… we got our own thing, Parker. And sure, we might like it best when it's all three of us, just because we love him so, so much, yeah?"

He lifts one hand from her shoulder and tucks a bit of hair back behind her ear, giving her a chance to respond if she wants. Parker murmurs a quiet "yeah," and steps in a little closer. Eliot tugs her in the rest of the way now, assured that she's open to the touch. She pillows her chin on the shoulder she fixed, and Eliot lays a light kiss to the outside of her ear before continuing in a lower voice.

"So… we miss him, when he's not here, and we don't have the 'all three of us' thing right now. That doesn't make our thing, the you and me thing, any less good. It doesn't- Parker, you're so much more than just enough for me. You're who I need... especially when we don't have Hardison. Don't ever doubt that."

"I'll try," Parker turns her head and mutters it into the crook of Eliot's neck, and he loves her all the more for it. It's better than any empty promise of 'I won't,' because he knows the honesty of it. Knows it's not just an empty platitude of 'I'll do it,' but the vulnerable admission of 'I want to, but don't know if I can.'

"That's all I ask, darlin'."

Because it is. That's all Eliot ever asks of her. To try. Never demands that she change, never insists she should be thinking of herself differently or more kindly than she does. Just that she tries to.

"Now. About this whole 'passion' thing," Eliot sighs, pulling back so he can do that thing he does to Hardison that Parker loves to watch him squirm under, but likes it a lot less when it's turned on her. That thing where he ducks his neck and tilts his head and looks up at her through his hair with that serious, intimate look that makes her want to run because he for sure can see all of her secrets like this but also want to sink deep into that comforting gaze and never leave it. "I don't know where you got this idea that you're not passionate from, but-"

"Yeah, but it's not-!"

"The same?" Eliot cuts off her half-hearted attempt at argument. "Course it's not the 'same' as us, Parker! You aren't us. So, you… you don't lose yourself in it the same way me and Hardison do, okay? Him and me, how we get high off each other, the way we act... so you don't do that. That's fine! That’s only one type of passion, darlin'. You can't tell me,” he lets his hands skim down Parker’s arms until they meet her own palms. “That the way you focus so damn hard on taking us apart - taking me apart…”

Eliot brings Parker’s hands to his hips, and her fingers start to fidget with the hem of his shirt. Anchoring herself with the ribbed texture of the tank. Starting to explore up his stomach the way Eliot knows that Parker knows he likes. She’d ferreted that one out of him ages before they’d even thought up this whole ‘you and we makes three’ train. He lets his voice go a little breathy, a little raspy, makes sure she notices how she's affecting him. “-the way you always know exactly how to do it, piece by piece, single-mindedly pulling me apart like a damn puzzle, Park… you can’t tell me that ain’t some kind of passion.”

“Yeah, but that’s just the same way I steal stuff,” Parker giggles a little, the familiar flutter of Eliot’s sides under her deft fingers grounding her and soothing some of the unease. He’s right about this. How she knows what to do with him. How good she is at it. But that’s not anything special, it’s just-

“Exactly, Parker,” Eliot is trying to walk them back toward the bed, but it’s not really working out well. Between his having only the one boot on and Parker actively seeking out the ticklish bits of his belly that make his knees go all wobbly when she scrapes her nails down them, it’s comical enough to startle another giggle out of her. Or it’s a sob. Or it’s a hiccup. Or it’s some weird combination of all three, she isn’t really sure, but it doesn't seem to really matter either. The sound is whatever it was, just like she is whatever she is.

“It's just like that. Just like how you plan your next score. And that’s your Thing. Like me and food, Hardison and his nerdery... Do you realize how that makes me feel? Knowing you treat me like a heist? Like the thing that you let define you?”

“Yeah but that’s not a sex thing, it’s just a me thing.”

“It doesn’t matter that it’s not a sex thing, Parker, it’s your passion. Your Thing. Yours.” Eliot finally makes it back to the edge of the bed and drops, pulling Parker into his lap. He guides her wandering hands to his chest so she can feel the rumble in his voice as he growls.

“Darlin’, you treat me like damn masterpiece. Like I’m standing smack under a spotlight in the middle of the Louvre, and the only thing in the world that matters to you is how you’re gonna pick through my security piece by piece until all that’s left under your hands is a canvas stretched tight as it’ll go and a picture meant only for you and the people you choose to see it."

Parker’s nails scrape against the skin of Eliot’s collarbone as her fingers instinctively curl in, wanting to grip take steal hold climb, and he barely restrains himself from throwing his head back in a moan. He needs to make sure Parker’s in the right place first, before he gives himself over to his own wants.

“Wow,” she whispers, damn near reverent now as she looks down at him. There’s a dawning in her eyes that tells Eliot they’re alright. That they’re gonna be good. That it’s okay to pull her tighter and ask her to go ahead and steal him again tonight, since he knows her rigging is secure.

"I can't imagine anything more passionate than that."

“Uh-huh, ‘wow' is right,” he laughs breathlessly, and reaches up to take hold of her chin. It’s a light grip, barely any pressure where he between his thumb resting on the front and the rest of his fingers curling around under her jaw, but she lets Eliot guide her down until their lips touch. Not kissing, yet, just touching. His mouth moves against hers as he speaks, tongue briefly darting out to wet two pairs of parched lips. “-so tell me, why the fuck would I want to go to anyone else?”

“Maybe if you got some bad advice,” Parker murmurs, voice strong and confident again for the first time since they wrapped up the con. “From someone who didn’t realize she made you feel that way?”

“Hmmn, that could make sense,” Eliot hums back, resisting the urge to roll up against her in wet jeans that would only serve to chafe rather than provide any of the friction that having Parker in his lap always makes him crave. “If someone could help me get this damn boot off, maybe I could get to work making sure she’ll never forget it?”

#fic writers wait for no production team #leverage #leverage ot3 #eliot spencer #parker #eliot spencer x parker #OT3 established but background due to Redemption's whole plot and also the point being about how two of the 'cule function with one absent

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

Apothecary - Chapter Seven

joel miller x witchy!reader

series masterlist

the town of Jackson comes together for a meeting, and truths are revealed.

wordcount: 4.8K

warnings | 18+ smut, significant angst, dramaaaaa

.............................

The irony isn’t lost on her. What now serves as the Jackson town hall had been a church in its previous life, high-arched windows, wooden pews, pulpit and all. Her mother would show her pictures from history books of Salem, their ancestors, she had told her, faces steeled in cool resignation amidst a contorted hysteria. She thinks of those images now, sitting in the first pew, Joel tucking her into his side, and dozens of eyes skittering up her neck.

“Alright, let’s go ahead and start the meeting. I think we all know why I called everyone together. There’s been a lot of talk around town and it’s time to put rumors to rest and set the record straight.” Maria’s voice echoes through the hall from where she stands at the front of the room, Tommy right by her side, quieting the low thrum of the crowd. There’s not an empty seat to be had, people relegated to stand in the back, and she doesn’t dare glance over her shoulder out of fear of what she might find, glares and whispers, jaws set in predetermined condemnation. Joel however, can’t stop looking, his head whipping around every few moments before turning back to her with a grunt until she finally gives his knee a squeeze.

“You’re gonna throw your back out if you keep twisting your neck like that.” He sighs, resting his hand over hers.

“That’s gonna be the least of my worries if these people don’t stop fucking staring.” His words come out with a huff, and she offers him what she can of a smile, giving his thigh another squeeze. Though both of their attention is drawn back to the front of the room as the meeting really begins.

“We’d like for this to be an open forum to clear the air and discuss folks’ concern about what’s been going on, so if everyone’s amenable to that, we can open the floor to whoever would like to speak first.” It doesn’t surprise her that as soon as Maria steps to the side, Mason is getting up from his seat next to Matthew and Maura to stand in front of the crowd.

“I’d like to speak on behalf of the Nichols who are too grief-stricken at this moment to talk about such things. But they need and deserve justice for what happened to their baby, and I think it’s high time that witch right there gave us some answers.” She can feel Joel’s muscles tense under her hands, and she muses that if she wasn’t keeping a steady palm on him, he’d already be out of his seat and heading for Mason. Untangling herself from him, she gives Joel what she hopes is a reassuring nod as she stands up, squaring her shoulders as she faces Mason.

“I’m happy to give you answers. But I’m afraid it’s not going to be what you want to hear.” She turns to look at Maura, sitting across the aisle with tears welling in her eyes, Matthew set in a stony glare beside her.

“Maura, I can’t express how sorry I am for what happened to your baby. And I need you to know that if there was anything I could have done to change things, I would have done it in a heartbeat. But I don’t think anyone could have changed what happened. It was just– it was too early, and I’m sorry.” For a moment, Maura’s features soften as she looks at her, a silent understanding that’s gone as soon as it comes when Matthew opens his mouth.

“Don’t listen to her, Maura. Remember what I told you? Nothing but lies coming out of her mouth.”

“Why would I lie about something like this? Something as awful as this?” With that, Mason takes a few strides toward her, too close for comfort as his lip curls at her.

“Oh, you know why, little witch.” “Back off.” Too focused on Mason, she failed to notice Joel standing up, now stepping between them to glower at the man just as Maria steps forward as well, looking pointedly between the two men.

“Let’s keep things civil here, shall we?” Mason huffs, nostrils flared, though he does take a few steps back. And then she glances over her shoulder, though she wishes she hadn’t, quickly realizing that this has turned into a bona fide production for the people of Jackson to watch, necks craned to catch the action at the pulpit.

“I can tell you all exactly why she’d– she’d curse us like this. It’s because I wouldn’t give her what she wanted.” Matthew is up out of his seat, turned to, essentially, play to the crowd, his arms gesticulating broadly as he mouths off.

“She tried to put me under her spell. Tried to tempt me and seduce me like she did with all those other poor men, Miller included. But I am faithful, and I resisted her temptations. That’s why she cursed me, that’s why our baby is dead. And it’s why all those other men are dead too.” The crowd breaks into a thrumming murmur as Matthew finishes his speech, and her stomach sinks at the sound of their clear assent, heads nodding along to his words. This is about when the pitchforks come out, right?

“I have heard enough!” A hush falls over the crowd, Joel’s booming voice bouncing off the walls as he turns fully around to look at them.

“Do y’all really hear what this man is saying? This-this nonsense about someone who has helped every single one of you in this goddamn room?” She’s stunned still by his outburst, and everyone else seems to be too, eyes wide as Joel points to someone in the crowd.

“You told me she cured your son’s cough after he had it for years.” She recognizes the woman, who nods at Joel’s words, glancing over to her before responding.

“That’s true– she did. It was– well, it was a huge relief.”

“She did the same for our little girl when she was sick last year. We thought her cough would never go away, but she helped her, helped us.” Another woman’s voice fills the room, heads turning to listen.

“And how many of y’all have gone to her looking for help when your kids come home with poison ivy? I know I have.” There’s a wave of murmurs in the crowd, heads nodding at Joel’s words as he points to someone else.

“And you told me that she helped your wife through her entire pregnancy, ain’t that right?” The man nods, just as another woman speaks up.

“She helped me too, with both of my girls– honestly I don’t know how I would’ve done it without her.”

“Us too, we’ve got her to thank for our boy.” She turns around at the sound of Tommy’s voice, seeing him and Maria both smiling at her where they stand.

Several other people come forward, sharing their own stories of how she had helped them in the past, and she can’t help the tears that start to gather in her lashes at this, a gratitude she has never experienced before. Joel takes her hand in his, glancing at her as people continue to speak, stories of rashes cured and colds stymied, wounds tended and care given. But Matthew isn’t done speaking just yet.

“Don’t listen to this man, he-he’s under her spell! He doesn’t know what he’s talking about!”

“I’m not under some fucking spell. I know the woman I love, and I know that she wouldn’t harm anyone. And I also know she wouldn’t so much as look your way.” Joel’s words shock her, words she hasn’t heard from him before, but she doesn’t have much time to consider them before Mason is butting in with his own declaration.

“So she’s helped some people. That doesn’t take away from the fact that she’s a licentious slut who’s trying to drive men to adultery!” It’s a stunning slew of words, but before she or Joel can even react, a young woman is shooting up out of her seat and bursting out with a firm exclamation.

“She’s not an adulterer! He is! I’ve been having an affair with Matthew Nichols for months!” A collective gasp washes over the crowd, and she watches the color leave Matthew’s face. The woman waits for a lull in the commotion to continue speaking, eyes darting around the crowd.

“Don’t blame her for any of this. That man is a liar– I’m so sorry, Maura.” With that, the woman lets out a broken sob as she pushes through the crowd, hurrying toward the exit as Matthew calls out a rather meek “Lisa?” In the meantime, Maura has stood up, tears no longer falling as she stares at her husband, shock mingling with ire in her eyes.

“Maura, it’s not– it’s not what it–” Maura cuts off Matthew’s stammering with a palm held up between them, only offering him one word before she turns heel and storms out of the town hall.

“Don’t.” Matthew is quick to rush out on his wife’s heels, calling after her, leaving everyone thoroughly speechless, stunned silence hanging in the air as eyes dart around, searching for answers now that the floor has all but fallen out from under them.

Joel lets go of her hand, stepping over to a very slack-jawed Mason, nose to nose as he glares at him.

“I suggest you go on home now, son, I think we’re done here.” He doesn’t have to be told twice.

…

By the time she makes it back to Joel’s house, the sun has already pulled hazy and low over the mountains, washing everything in orange fading into purple.

“How’s she holding up?” She sighs at his question, plopping down next to him on the porch bench and all but melting into his side.

“I think she’ll be ok. She’s gonna stay with a friend of hers until the council works out a new place for her to live, but she seems pretty clear about her decision. Wants nothing to do with that man ever again.” After the town meeting that morning, she had sought Maura out immediately, inviting her to her shop, somewhere quiet for them to talk. And talk they did, for the better part of the day.

“And you and her are good?”

“I think so, yeah.” There’s so much more she could say. How Maura kept telling her that she knew it wasn’t her fault. How awful she felt for how everything happened. And how they both couldn’t stop thinking about that little baby girl. But with the day she’s had, it’s nothing that can’t wait, leaving it at that for now as Joel pulls her a little closer under his arm.

“You were something else today, Miller.” His grumble thrums under her palm splayed over his chest, shaking his head as he looks at her.

“I did what needed to be done. Those people needed some fucking sense talked into them. And for the record, I’m still thinking about paying Mason a visit and–” She cuts him off with a kiss, brushing his hair back before letting her palm come to rest along his scruff.

“He’s not worth it, Joel. I don’t think he’s gonna give us any more trouble either. Not after what happened today.” Though he doesn’t seem too satisfied by her response, the second kiss she presses to his lips seems to melt some of his resolve, the crease between his brows easing up as she pulls away to look at him.

“So, the woman you love, huh?” That distracts him, his jaw going a little slack as she grins at him.

“You– you caught that?” She’s quick to stifle her laugh when she sees the clear worry in his eyes, letting her palm fall back to his chest to rub reassuring circles there.

“Yeah, I caught that.”

“I didn’t, uh– I mean– I didn’t mean to–”

“It was kinda nice hearing the man I love talk about me like that.” His brows shoot up his forehead at that, and this time she can’t hold back her laugh at his shocked expression.

“I– you– you mean me, right?”

“What do you think?” He pulls her into this kiss, swallowing her laugh and then silencing it with the way he licks into her mouth, her mind going hazy with him.

“Innocent eyes present! Please do not scar me for life, thank you very much.” They reluctantly pull away from each other, Joel grumbling as Ellie comes stomping up the porch steps, Stevie hot on her heels.

“I heard you guys did some serious ass-whooping today. Is it true what people are saying about the Nichols?” Joel huffs at her words, and at Stevie who has leapt into her lap between them, front paws digging into his thigh.

“Kid, no one did any ass-whooping, alright? And don’t look so pleased about what happened to the Nichols either, ain’t a laughing matter.”

“He’s right, Ellie. Things are gonna be ok, but it was a hard day for everyone.” Ellie schools her face into something like solemnity, crossing her arms in front of her and nodding.

“Although… Joel did do some ass-whooping today.” At that, Ellie’s face breaks into a grin, pumping her fist in the air before holding her palm out to Joel for a high five, which he does not reciprocate, quirking his eyebrow at both of them with a shake of his head before getting up with a grumble that he’s going to get started on dinner, Stevie mewling in indignation at the sudden shift off of his legs and onto the bench next to her. With the soft click of the front door behind him, all it takes is Ellie glancing back her way for the both of them to let out a laugh.

It feels like a relief, like something settling back into place.

…

“So much for taking it slow, huh?” Joel glances at her in the bathroom mirror, wiping toothpaste off his mouth before resting his hip against the counter and fully looking at her.

“Think we’re way past slow now, darlin.” She had rather sheepishly asked him if it’d be ok for her to stay the night, not sure if she was still welcome now that everything had blown over. Joel had just looked at her like she was crazy for even asking, pulling her into a tight hug and murmuring something about her never having to leave if she didn’t want to. And she’s not sure if she ever will, not after that rock that came soaring through the front window of her house. She had already had a faint thread of an idea that maybe Maura could take her house after she moved in with Joel, since it seems like whatever this is, it’s going to stick around. He’s going to stick around, and so is she.

“Where’d you go?” His gentle question and his hand on her hip shakes her out of her head, blinking a few times to focus back on him standing in front of her.

“Hmm? Just thinking– it’s nothing important, not right now at least.” He hums at that, shuffling closer and taking her face in his hands, his eyes seemingly searching her expression.

“You alright?” It’s so genuine, the worry just barely creasing his brow as he looks at her that she’d probably melt under his gaze if not for his hands holding her steady. The sigh that she lets out is one she’s been holding in for a while.

“I think so, yeah. I– what you did today– for me. No one’s ever done something like that— stood up for me like that. And I guess I’m just trying to say thank you, for sticking your neck out for me.” He seems to consider her words for a moment, lips parted and eyes turned down as he strokes his thumb over her cheek.

“I’d do it again in an instant, darlin. Meant what I said too. I love you. Fuck, I really love you.” With all the other ones, she had heard them tell her that they wanted her, needed her even. But Joel is the first to say these words to her, and she doesn’t think she’d like to hear them from anyone else, ever. She nearly laughs when the thought crosses her mind that, really, she’s under his spell.

“I love you, Joel. I do, I love you.” Yes, it has to be magic, the way his eyes crinkle up, a smile he wouldn’t give to anyone else, the strength of his palms still so soft along her jaw as he guides her lips to his. And they get to have this, all of this, for as long as they both want it. She hopes for a long time, if not forever.

It’s a messy affair, lips only parting for quick gasps of breath, eyes barely glancing away as they make a stumbling path for his bed. She can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, breaking their kiss when they fall in a graceless tangle onto the mattress, a quick twist of limbs that has her straddling his hips, palms splayed out on his chest as she looks down at him. For a moment, all she wants is to look at him looking at her, the little tilt of his head, amusement rounding his cheeks as his fingers squeeze and flex where they’re curled around her hips.

“Staring ain’t very polite, darlin.”

“Neither is being a smartass, baby.” The laugh he lets out is more of a disbelieving huff and she’s quick to swallow it, dipping down and bringing them back together in a kiss that stings sweet, teeth scraping skin as her fingers skitter down the buttons of his shirt. Her mouth follows her hands, meeting every new inch of exposed skin with a drag of kisses, and when he sits up just enough to shrug out of the sleeves of his shirt, she can’t help but nip at the soft swell of his stomach, eliciting a grumble from him.

“What’s that about, huh?” She grins against his skin, palm splaying in the middle of his chest to push him back flat on the mattress, nosing at the trail of hair just below his navel.

“I happen to really like this part of you, that’s all.” The quirk of his brows at her words makes her laugh, simply leaving another smattering of kisses over his belly in response as she works open his belt.

She learned early on that Joel’s something of a giver, always wanting to be the one in control, the one who decides what and when and how, and it only makes it more satisfying when she gets him like she has him now, giving it all up to her. A quiet “hips up, baby” is all it takes to get his jeans shimmying down his legs, tugging them off before settling back between his legs, her palms resting on the tops of his thighs.

“You look perturbed.”

“You’ve still got a lot of clothes on, darlin.” He says it with a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth, sitting up on his elbows to look at her as she peels her shirt off over her head. But that’s all she’ll give him for now.

“Lay back down, Miller, I wasn’t done with you.” His grumble dies in his throat when she slips her fingers under the waistband of his boxers, nails grazing the soft skin there. That gets him on his back real fast. She supposes she’s teased him enough, tugging his boxers off with little fanfare, his cock resting flushed and hard against his stomach.

She knows what he likes. He likes her eyes on him when she lets her tongue drag along the underside of his length, and he likes it a touch messy, spit pooling in the corners of her lips when she takes him into her mouth. He likes when her nails graze over his belly, holding him still as she works him over, taking him into her mouth as far as she can before pulling back to lap at his swollen tip. She likes all the little sounds she can coax out of him, harsh breaths turning into clipped grunts that eventually give way to moans thrumming low in his chest as she continues her ministrations.

“I– Jesus– that mouth of yours– gotta– gotta stop, honey. I can’t– I want you. Want you now.” With that, he sits up, fingers tucked under her chin to coax her up for a devouring kiss before his hands fall to the button of her pants. His mouth doesn’t stray far from her skin, grazing over the tops of her breasts as he works her out of her remaining clothes, a close shuffle that leaves her just as bare as he is, coaxing her thighs to frame his hips. He holds her steady, hands an insistent bruise on her hips as her cunt drags over his length, a heady pull that has her nails digging into his chest.

“Shit, darlin– you ready for me? Wanna take it like this?” It always makes her brain stutter to a stop, the absolute mouth he has on him, usually such a gentleman, so quiet, suddenly turned sharp and demanding. It’s obvious to her that he doesn’t realize what kind of effect his words have, only earnest anticipation in his eyes as he looks up at her, and it only makes the heat grazing up her spine raise another pitch. He’s all soft murmured encouragement, palms a steady sweep up her thighs, the curve of her ass, fingers firming up on her hips as she guides his cock to her entrance.

Relax for me, darlin, that’s it.

Fuck, that’s good. You’re so good like this.

Move for me, honey. Just like that, so fucking perfect.

It’s a brilliant mingling of sighs, clipped moans with every pass of her hips, Joel bending his knees and planting his feet into the mattress to meet each bounce with his own thrust. His eyes are a hot drag on her skin, the pull of his gaze trailing every curve before sweeping back up to her face. She’s trailing along the edge of too much, so full of him that each tilt of her hips has her gasping with the way his cock is spreading her open, grazing so deep every time she sinks back down. But when he brings one hand to rest at the crux of her thigh, fingers smearing a sloppy rhythm into her clit, too much washes over her like a wave, spine curling in an arc of pleasure until her chest is pressed close against his, face buried in the juncture of his neck as she mouths a quiet cry into his skin. His hands draw a slow circuit up her spine, keeping her full, but not moving as she crashes down around him.

“I’ve got you, easy, easy, I’ve got you, darlin.” A kiss to her temple coaxes her face out from his neck, hazy smiles shared between barely brushing lips.

They move like liquid. He stays, warm and throbbing inside her, as he turns them over, his hips slotting between her thighs, forearms framing her face. There’s no use for words. She gives him a nod and a kiss to the corner of his mouth, enough communication for him to slip back into movement, hips a steady and strong roll into hers. He’s beautiful like this, a pink flush creeping up his chest into his cheeks, his brow pulled down in pleasure, eyes a continuous wave from her face down to where she’s taking all of him over and over again. And it’s her turn to coax, to murmur, to press and press and press until he cracks.

Feel so full, baby. Always fill me up so perfect.

So good like this, Joel. Doing so good for me.

I want it, baby. Want it so bad. Let go for me, please.

He comes with a crackled groan, her name leaving his lips on a punched out exhale as he curls over her, spend smearing warm over her stomach. She props herself up on an elbow, her hand on his jaw drawing him down for a kiss shared between harsh breaths.

“Was that– was that good for you?”

“You’re always good for me, Joel.”

…

Her overalls are back, hanging off the corner of his bathroom door. There’s a stack of her books on his nightstand, thick tomes full of latin names he won’t even attempt to pronounce. And her plants are back too, she and Ellie hauling them over one afternoon, shuffling back and forth between her old house and theirs. A few pieces of her furniture made the move as well. A dark blue armchair that now sits in the living room, what has become Stevie’s designated lounging area. A cabinet that had been a bitch for them to move, huffing and puffing across town, Joel nearly throwing his back out with the effort, though his reward that night had been worth it. And a high-backed bureau now sits in the corner of his bedroom, a spot he finds her sitting at most mornings before they both head out for work, writing meticulous notes about the people she cares for.

“Gonna see you over lunch today?” He can feel the curl of her smile where his lips rest against her cheek, and she turns around on her stool to steal a proper kiss from him.

“Mmhmm, I’ll be there. I’m guessing I’m gonna have to share with you again, huh?”

“Well, if you’re offering I ain’t gonna turn you down.” He didn’t get to have her laugh for a while there, and now whenever she does give it to him, it’s like he tries to gather it up in his mind, every crackling smile, every tilt of her head, every peel of relief committed to memory.

“Fine, but I’m not leaving tomatoes off this time. You’ll just have to eat around them.”

“I guess I can live with that.” Another smacking kiss before he pulls away to let her stand up.

“You gonna walk me out, Miller?”

“That’s the least I can do, darlin.”

No more whispers, no more stares, they move through town easily now, first walking Ellie to school, who tells her and Stevie that she’ll be around the shop this afternoon before offering Joel a clipped “later, old man.” But he doesn’t even have time to be annoyed by it, not when his woman is taking his hand and tugging him along toward her shop.

She still moves a bit tentatively, glancing over her shoulder at him as she unlocks the front door before stepping inside, her shoulders a slight hunch as she moves through the shop. He’s been keeping her company in the mornings before his own shifts, staying out of her way but close enough that he hopes it eases some of her worry.

“Ellie’s already asking me about Halloween, you know.” His brows raise at her words, watching her rest her elbows on the butcher block across from him.

“Is it– is it an important day for your, uh, your people?” Though he can see the amusement in her eyes at his stumbled-out question, she spares him any teasing, lazily stirring her tea before letting the spoon rest in the mug.

“Mmhmm, though we call it Samhain, not Halloween. I’ll tell you more about it when it gets a little closer.” They’ve figured out a gradual give and take, when to ask and when to answer, when to let things rest and when to reveal a bit more, and Joel can tell she’s making such a calculation in her head right now, offering him an easy smile. But his attention is drawn down to her mug, spoon now languidly stirring all by itself, though she’s quick to catch it, bringing her palm over the rim of the cup, her smile turning sheepish as his eyes widen at her.

“That– how– how am I just seeing that now?” That makes her laugh.

“I may have been trying to hide that particular, uh, quirk. Didn’t want to freak you out too much.”

“Darlin, at this point, I don’t think you could freak me out if you tried.”

.............................

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clareguilty · 3 years

Text

Only Yours

My second follower giveaway fic! These are coming out wayyyy longer than i anticipated so thats why they take so long LOL Charles Smith/fem!Reader Word Count: ~2600 Rating: Explicit | A/B/O, heats/ruts, smut, inherent dubcon of heats/ruts

It should never have been so sudden. Out of the blue. One minute, you were making your way through the crowd of the train station, and the next you could feel everyone’s eyes on you.

Most of the looks were of pity. Your discomfort and fear were written clear across your face.

And then there was the danger. A pack of men in dark coats who were making their way off the platform had turned at the scent of the wind.

You were an omega, alone, going into heat.

It had come out of nowhere, weeks earlier than you anticipated. Otherwise they never would have put you up for this job, never would have dropped you off in Saint Denis by yourself.

Still, you were on the middle of the train platform, surrounded by people. You were safe for now. No one would try anything unless they could get you alone. You just had to do your part.

Dutch had explained the job carefully. You would board the train in the city, case the passenger cars and anywhere else before the rest of the gang slowed the train farther out into the marsh. Once they boarded, you would lead them to the wealthiest passengers and steal as much as you could before escaping with them.

Except now you were going to be the most noticeable passenger on board, unmated and on your own at the very start of your heat. The law would no doubt be able to track you by your scent alone once you escaped the train.

You kept your eyes to the ground as you handed the conductor your ticket, intentionally picking a seat as far back away from the other passengers as possible. Most of them were polite enough to give you your space.

The fever was setting in, and the last place you wanted to be was around all of these strangers. Why couldn’t you be at camp? Safely curled up in your tent with the others to look after you?

It felt like an eternity before the car pulled out of the station and over the murky water. You watched it all pass by with your fingers curled tightly in your skirt and your lip caught between your teeth.

You still had quite a while until you reached the location Dutch had planned to stop the train. Trapped in your seat, you watched the feathered plumes of the ladies a few seats ahead of you bob with their conversation.

The sound of the wheels screeching on the tracks snapped you out of your daze, and you glanced out the window to confirm that is was far too soon for the train to stop. Something wasn’t going according to plan.

That something revealed itself in a booming voice in the car ahead of you. “Why don’t you go ahead and see if these folks have any valuables while I look for our little treasure.” It was an unfamiliar voice, definitely not someone from the gang. You knew you weren’t safe, not in your state.

The door to the car banged open and you slid down in your seat until you were out of sight. “She’s in here,” the voice called. “I can smell her.”

Oh. That would be you. The only one on this train dealing with a particular biological failing that made you detectable to anyone around.

“Where is she?” the man demanded. You knew these strangers would give you up in a heartbeat. Sure enough, heavy boot steps sounded down the aisle towards where you were hiding. “Come out, come out,” he teased.

You pulled your revolver from your satchel, pulling the hammer back as quietly as possible. You could definitely shoot this guy, then maybe escape out of the back of the car before anyone else could get you.

The man came into view and you recognized him as one of the leering asses from the train station. An alpha, but a dangerous one. He seemed surprised to find you with a gun in your hand, but he only chuckled and lunged for you.

You squeezed the trigger.

He staggered back, clearly offended that you shot him. You didn’t wait around, climbing over the seat in front of you and stumbling down the aisle with your head spinning. The other robbers noticed you, glancing up from the car ahead. You gathered your skirts and jumped the moment you reached the platform beyond the car door. Scrambling away from the tracks you took off through the mud and the trees. You had only made it a few yards when someone massive tackled you to the ground and the sound of a gunshot rang through the air, startling the birds.

You had moved to elbow your attacker when a low, familiar voice reached your ears.

“It’s just me.You’re safe. We need to move quickly.”

“Charles,” you breathed. “Thank Christ.” Charles was probably one of the only alphas you trusted to be around you during your heat. Some of that may have been attributed to your poorly hidden feelings for him, but also because he was a good man.

“C’mon,” he pulled you to your feet and led you into the brush, whistling for Taima. You climbed into the saddle as soon as she came into view. Charles settled in behind you and you dutifully passed him the reins. He spurred her into a swift gallop, racing along the tracks. “We need to tell the others the train has already been hit.”

“I can’t stay,” you said. “They’ll track my scent.”

“We’ll go north.”

“No!” you exclaimed. “I have to go alone.”

Charles hummed low, not happy with your defiance. “I’m not letting you.”

You wanted to argue, but knew it was useless. You didn’t even have a horse to take. You would have to ride with him. But the thought of being alone with Charles when you were so out of your mind -- what if you made a mistake?

A lantern was lit at the sound of Taima’s hooves, and Lenny’s face peeked out of the trees. “It’s Charles!” he called.

One by one, Dutch, John, Arthur, and Bill appeared out of the dusk.

“The train was hit by another group about two miles back. You all should scatter before the law gets here.” Charles reported.

John and Arthur nodded. Dutch reached for your hand where it was clinging to the saddle horn. You fought the urge to recoil. As much as you were loyal to Dutch, you did not want him near you when you were in heat. “Are you going to be alright?” he asked.

You nodded. “They’ve got my scent. I’ve got to get out of here quick. I’ll head back to camp in a few days.”

Dutch nodded, turning and immediately shouting orders to the other men. Charles turned Taima and took off again. It was a blessing that damn horse could cover so much ground. The two of you made it to the plains in just a few tortuous hours. Hours of you trying to ignore how close you were to Charles, how right it felt to be near him, how much you wanted more.

Charles followed along the creek bed until you came to a run down mill. “We can stay here for the time being,” he said. You staggered out of the saddle. The door was locked, but easy enough to pick without breaking. You scoped out the dusty interior.

It looked safe enough. Charles dropped a lantern, bedroll, and saddle bag before heading back out to take care of Taima.

You lit the lantern and hid yourself away in the corner. Your heat had only grown stronger and you worried what you would do with Charles so close by. You trusted him. With your life. But he was still and alpha, and just the nearness to him during the ride had made your life a living hell of desire and frustration.

He finished bringing things in and taking care of Taima. When he saw where you were curled in on yourself he frowned, watching carefully for a moment.

“Would you like me to stay outside?” he asked.

“Maybe,” you said weakly.

He nodded. “Do you need anything?” you noticed he was favoring his left arm as he looked through his saddlebag. In the dim lantern light you could see the blood staining his shirt.

“You’re hurt!” you shot up off the ground. “What happened?” you rushed to his side, bracing yourself on the table as your head spun.

“It’s nothing,” he said, grabbing a tonic and a roll of gauze from his bag.

“The men from the train,” you remembered the gunshot. They must have been aiming for you and hit Charles when he tackled you.

“It’s just a scrape,” Charles insisted.

“Let me clean it. It’s the least I can do.” You tried to pry the gauze from his hands.

He relented after a moment of stubbornness. You tugged at his shirt as silent instruction for him to remove it. Maybe you would have time to wash and mend it during your heat -- though it wasn’t likely.

“We shouldn’t-” Charles pushed you away. You knew it was just as hard for him to be near you as it was for you to be near him. He was everything your body wanted: a protective alpha to watch over you and keep you safe. And you were catering to his every instinct at the moment.

“Hold your breath. I’ll do the same.” You grabbed the clearest liquor you could find and wet your bandana to wash away the blood.

He growled low at the sting, but kept his gaze pointed away. You held your own breath, trying to keep your eyes on the scrape instead of anything else. The broadness of his chest, the shine of his hair, the unmarred skin at the junction of his neck and shoulder.

You weren’t looking.

It felt like too long before you tied off the bandage. But you couldn’t pull your fingers from his skin, letting them trail over the muscles of his arm.

Charles grabbed your wrist, squeezing in warning. “Don’t,” he breathed.

“I trust you,” you said. You knew it was just the heat talking. At least partially. But those poorly hidden feelings of yours were tumbling from your lips before you could stop them. “If it were going to be anyone, I’d want it to be you.”

He moved on instinct, to fast for you to understand. You were flush against his chest, held tightly in his arms.

“I’m not that good. I don’t deserve you.” He looked pained, avoiding your gaze.

“What do you mean? You’re one of the best men I know.” Now that you were in his arms, you let yourself run your hands over his chest.

“Why would I have brought you all the way out here alone? Would it not have been safer for you to go with Lenny?” He grinned wryly, as if he was disappointed in himself.

It was true, Lenny was a beta but still perfectly capable of protecting you. You could just as easily have left with him.

But you liked being with Charles, and you were flattered that he would want you like that.

“I’m selfish,” Charles said.

“I want you to be selfish,” you wrapped your arms around him, pressing your cheek to his bare skin.

He lifted you into his arms and knelt so he could lay you down on his bedroll. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered.

“I want you to,” you moaned, baring your neck to him. You were done fighting off your desires, and you just wanted to be knotted and mated and taken.

“Take your clothes off before I tear them,” he growled. You had never undone your buttons so fast in your life. It felt like a victory, knowing that Charles wanted you, that he would have you like this.

Charles removed his trousers and helped you tug your skirts over your thighs. “I’m going to knot you,” he murmured. He crawled over you, kissing you feverishly as you clung to him. He kissed over your jaw, down your neck to the sensitive, aching skin just above your collarbone.

You turned your head to bare your neck, gasping at the slight scrape of teeth. “Please,” you begged. It was the heat talking. As much as you cared for Charles, it was irresponsible of him to mate you, especially when you could barely think about anything but his knot.

He chuckled, his breath warm against your already burning skin. “Not today.” His lips trailed down over your chest. You were thankful that he would watch over you, keep you from making any rash decisions. There was no other alpha you trusted like him. He was the only one who could have you like this. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him up for a bruising kiss.

You slid onto his lap, thighs bracketing his hips. His cock was hard and aching between your bodies. He leaned back, and you moved so you could grind your dripping pussy along his length. It felt amazing, but it wasn’t enough.

He held still as you lifted your hips and began to sink down onto his cock. “Ah, fuck,” you dug your nails into his shoulders as your thighs shook.

“Easy now,” he moved his hands to your hips to help support you. You didn’t want easy. You wanted to be filled. Furrowing your brows, you took him as deep as you could in one motion. Both of you moaned at the sudden sensation. He was so deep inside you, the swell of his knot pressing against your clit. You rolled your hips carefully, delighting in the way Charles’s hold on you tightened.

Every movement felt so good; you began to ride him desperately, spurred on by your heat. His hands roamed over you body, squeezing your ass and rubbing over your thighs.

You came embarrassingly quickly, you hips stuttering and shaking as you tightened around his cock. Charles -- remarkably strong even for an alpha -- simply grabbed your hips and moved you on his cock, chasing his own release.

It was everything you needed, fucked through the oversensitivity and aftershocks of your orgasm, stoking the desire that still burned through you. With a thrust of his hips, Charles knotted you. You cried out and fell forward against his chest, panting and whimpering as he filled you.

It was quiet save for the sound of your breathing and Charles’s low moans. Both of you laid still for several minutes, enjoying the feeling of being tied together.

You were pulled from the haze of pleasure as Charles lifted you off of him. His knot slipped free and you winced. You were still very much in heat, and the emptiness was like an ache.

“Turn over for me,” Charles murmured, and you obeyed. Laying on your stomach, resting your head on your arms, you were surprised when Charles pushed your thighs apart.

Oh. You got the message. You lifted your ass, spreading your legs so Charles could push back into you from behind. “That’s a good girl,” he squeezed your ass.

It felt so good, being taken from behind. Charles’s cock seemed to hit every right spot as he fucked you into the bedroll.

“You’re sleeping in my tent when we get back to camp,” he said, voice breathy and low. “You’re going to be mine. No one else can have you.”

“Yours,” you moaned as he knotted you again. He continued to move, fucking you with shallow thrusts as he came again.

You whine when he moved you again, rolling you so both of you could lay on your sides with Charles still inside you. “Get some rest,” he murmured.

“Only yours,” you murmured, lost to your heat and the pleasure. Just the warmth of Charles holding you, his scent. Only his.

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woman-with-no-name · 3 years

Text

Dutch van der Linde x Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Title: "Angels"

A/N: What can I say, I was bored. I'm not a writer or a native English speaker, but I decided to do this for fun so don't judge me too hard. ✌️Hope y'all enjoy.

Warnings: A bit of fluff, but mostly smut.

Summary: Dutch and you are together, but you can't stop thinking about the nature of his relationship with Arthur, so you decide to ask him.

Story under the cut.

"Dutch?"

"Yes? Darling." He looks up from his book nonchalantly.

"Were you and Arthur..." you pause, and turn your head to look behind the chair you were sitting on, as if there was anyone else in your tent except you two. A silly habit you had.

"Were we what?" Your hesitation made Dutch close his book and put it beside him. You smile awkwardly.

"You know...a thing? Back then? Before... when you were y- " you stop yourself before you start that argument again.

He eyes you, clearly amused by your question, and lets out a little laugh.

"And what makes you ask that?" He leans forward, crosses his arms and waits for a response. He wasn't wearing his hat so you could clearly see the suspicious look in his eyes.

You start squirming in your chair, your palms are getting sweaty.

"Oh, nevermind." Your nerve was gone, you weren't sure anymore if you want to start this topic.

"I don't know why I asked that. Sorry, love." You quickly take a nearby book in your hands and open it on a random page. You realize how this is the most idiotic thing you could have done. But it's too late. Dutch knew what you were and weren't reading, since you never did it by yourself. He was always there. Not that you mind it. You loved when he would read out loud, and you would be laying across the cot, with you head in his lap, and his free hand would be in your hair, stroking it. If you fell asleep he would either let you, or make a tiny clinging noise with his rings right next to your ear. The noise would immediately wake you up and he would always pretend he didn't do it on purpose. However, his clenching jaw and smiling lips would tell otherwise.

You could feel his eyes on your face, but you didn't dare look at him. Thinking you made him upset you hoped he would just forget about it. Trying to think of something to distract yourself, you turn the next page of the book.

You hear the cot squeak under him as he relaxes back. You lift your gaze and see him looking up at the plain canvas of your tent, as if thinking of a fond memory.

"Alright, my darling. Since it's you, I suppose I can tell you..."

Your gaze is immediately on him. You excitedly slap the book back on the shelve, lean forward on the chair, your elbows on your knees, as if Dutch was just about to tell you a juicy gossip about someone from camp, and not a confession about a past lover.

Seeing your reaction Dutch couldn't help himself but to let out a throaty laugh.

"But." He raises a finger at you, eyeing you. "First you have to tell me what made you ask that."

"Fine." You feigned offense and playfully roll your eyes at him.

"Its just...I know you two go way back and...well, you are both so... well, alluring. I just couldn't help myself not to think about...you two...you know." You make a weird slapping gesture with your hands.

Dutch closes his eyes and exhales a laugh. He brings his hand up to his brow and rubs his eyes. You loved to make him laugh with your silliness.

He clears his throat and continues: "You think Arthur is... alluring?" He drawls the last word to highlight it. Then leans, and spreads his legs to get closer. His elbows are on his knees, mimicking your pose. He watches your expression. Your faces are now just inches apart.

Fuck. You are trapped. How are you supposed to say yes without it sounding wrong?

"I mean, I suppose so... But he's, you know, not... Uhh, you know...bad. Khm." You look away. Not knowing what to expect. You can feel his eyes on your temple.

The tent flaps are open, and of course, who else is supposed to walk by other than the man himself. You curse under your breath. Can this get any worse?

"Howdy folks, how's it going?" Arthur greets you both.

Dutch knows what he is doing to you. He lets you sweat under his gaze for a few moments more. Arthur walking by only made it better for him. Bastard.

"Arthur! Hello. Come, sit down, son. We were just talking about you." Dutch exclaims cheerfully.

Arthur stops at the entrance, wooden floor boards squeak under his boots.

"Me? Why are you two wasting your time talking about me?" Arthur hesitates but takes off his hat, and enters the tent. Dutch moves a bit on the cot to give Arthur room to sit down, but not nearly enough. The space is way too small for both of them. Forbidden thoughts enter your mind again. But you quickly shoo them away.

Their knees are touching on the small cot and Arthur is holding his hat in his lap. Dutch wastes no time and places his hand on Arthur's knee. Arthur just glances at it but quickly relaxes to the familiar touch.

"My sweet lady was just telling me how alluring you are." Dutch turns his attention to Arthur.

Arthur glances at you, blushing and fighting the smile that's creeping on his face.

"But I know that already. I know that well..." Dutch continues and raises his palm to Arthur face.

"Ain't that right, my boy?"

"Dutch..." You notice Arthur grip his hat harder.

Dutch being this intimate to him didn't start jealousy in you, only awe. You couldn't help yourself but smile at how you weren't the one that's nervous anymore.

Dutch slowly moves his hand on the younger man's neck. Then behind it, and finally entwines his fingers in Arthur's hazel locks. His eyes grow darker as he grips the hair harder and brings Arthur closer to him.

Arthur hisses through his teeth but does nothing. His body goes slack. His eyes are half closed as he gives in. Dutch presses his nose on the stubbly cheek and then angles his head. Their lips are less than an inch apart, breaths mixing. Arthur closes his eyes completly, his breath uneven. Dutch laughs at this, he playfully pokes his nose with his own, and then pulls away completely. He lets his hand liger on Arthur's shoulder as he relishes in the other man's flustered expression.

"We will see you tonight, Arthur." Dutch removes his hand, and turns his attention to you. "Won't we, darling?"

You pick up your jaw from the floor and nod.

"What do you say, son?"

Arthur blinks, and exhales loudly.

"Yeah. I mean, yes. Da-... Yes. Dutch." He quickly shifts away from Dutch and coughs awkwardly. He then looks at you, embarrassed.

You melt under his soft blue eyes. "See you later, Mister Morgan..." You wink at him and lower your eyes at the hat he didn't put back on his head as he stood up to make his exit.

"Good boy." Dutch follows him to the edge of the tent and slaps his behind on the way out. Arthur shoots him an angry look but his smirk betrays him.

Dutch leans on the tent post and pulls a cigar out of his pocket. He puts it between his teeth and looks back at you.

"So, my sweet, any more questions?"

...

Evening came faster than you thought. You were pacing up and down the tent, while Dutch was kneeling at the small stove, tending to the fire.

"Nervous?" He watches your steps.

"A little bit, yes." You stop and turn to stand right next to him. "But...very excited too." You say as you caress his cheek with the back of your hand, and lean down for a kiss. You feel him smile and you pull away.

"Oh, is daddy excited too?" You never failed to rile him up with that word. He stands up and casually kicks the stove door closed. He wraps his arms around your waist and watches you through hooded eyes. You lean into the warm palm he brought up to your face, and you kiss each other tenderly.

"Khm... I hope I ain't interrupting something..." you hear behind you.

Arthur enters and ties up the tent flaps behind him. Dutch let's you go and places a small kiss on your forehead as he strides towards his former lover. They look at each other for a moment, unsure how to act. Dutch breaks the ice as he firmly rubs Arthur's shoulder. The younger man just laughs at this, and grabs him by his vest, pulling him into a tight hug. You giggle at how your lover was caught off guard. Something you rarely see.

" I missed this. You."

" I know, son. I did too."

They hold each other like this, long, until Dutch lifts Arthur's head from the crook of his neck to leave a soft kiss on his bottom lip. He catches it between his own and nibbles on it lightly. You hear a satisfied hum coming from Arthur, and it turns you on instantly.

"You two are beautiful like this, I hope you know that."

Arthur breaks the kiss and looks at you, shyly. His reaction makes you think about how you've never seen him act so "small". You two talked, but it was always about something random, and he would often keep his distance. But Dutch would tell you stories about him too, how capable he was, how many fights he won, and just how brave "his" Arthur was. Seeing him like this you also saw what Dutch loved about him, he loved reminding him of just how special he is to him.

Dutch reaches for you and you take his hand. He leads you between them and Arthur accompanies you in front of him. You reach behind and bring his face next to yours. Instinctively, he wraps his arms around your middle, and you lean into him. Dutch steps back a bit to get a good look at you both.

"Well, well. What did a man like me do, to deserve you two gorgeous angels..."

Arthur lets out a little laugh. "I ain't no gorgeous angel Dutch."

You slap Arthur lightly before Dutch even opens his mouth to answer.

"You deserved that." Dutch laughs and looks down, hands on his hips. He raises his head with a sinister look in his eyes, a look you knew well.

"That means I must be close to God, right?" His eyes looked almost completely black now.

"And what do good angels do in front of their God?" He caresses both of your faces. His thumb slips into your mouth as he pulls Arthur into a sloppy kiss, inches away from your face. You suck on his thumb, letting it slip pass your teeth and he pumps it in and out lightly. They kiss eachother hungrily, biting. Licking his lips and panting Dutch pulls away.

"They kneel, don't they?" He purrs.

Arthur and you get on your knees, a little bit too fast to conserve any dignity.

Dutch pulls out a cigar out of his front pocket and lights it.

"Might as well enjoy this to the fullest." He says smugly in that delicious dark tone you adored.

You trail your fingers up his thighs and reach for the gun belt that was still sitting on his hips. You unbuckle it and Arthur grabs it to throw it on the cot and proceeds to cup Dutch's cock through his pants. Arthur smiles as he hears a sigh from above. He goes to unbutton the fabric between you and your prize but Dutch stops him.

"Use your teeth would ya? Like you used to..." He teases, and you rise an eyebrow at Arthur.

"Go ahead, Mr. Morgan. Teach me something new."

Arthur complies and skillfully pulls on the edge of Dutch's pants and the top button gets loose. He bites down on the fly and looks up as he slowly pulls it down. A hand comes down to drag a ringed finger over his cheek.

You free his semi hard manhood and pump it a few times.

"Kiss me..." Arthur whispers, and leans in, to catch your lips in a slow but passionate kiss.

You feel Dutch instantly getting harder as he groans at the sight.

You pull away to lick a long, wet stripe up the shaft and then kiss Arthur again. You both work your way down his length, kissing and licking his cock from both sides. This makes Dutch's chest puff up as he savors the feeling of two tongues leading him to fulfilment. Arthur takes him in his mouth and you place your focus on his balls. Dutch takes the cigar from his mouth and his breathing quickens. Holding the cigar between his fingers he carefully places his hands on both of your heads, rubbing caringly.

"Oh, my angels..."

You start to lick your way up his Apollo's belt, you knew he liked the way your ticklish, warm kisses added to the sensation Arthur was giving him.

A slight whimper hits your ear and you knew he was close. Dutch rarely moaned during your times together, and when he didn't try to conceal it with a strained cough it was an absolutely irresistible sound to come out of him. It never failed to make you proud of yourself.

Arthur looked absolutely delicious with his ocean eyes filled with lust as he pulled away from Dutch to catch his breath. He cupped your chin to give you a sloppy kiss and then you both presented your open mouths and tongues to the man above.

Dutch panted and his brows furrowed as he used his hand to jack himself off, and paint both of your faces with his spent.

You twirl your tongue around your lips to collect as much as possible in your mouth to swallow it. Arthur and you smile at each other playfully. He uses his finger to collect a drop from your chin.

"Missed a spot."

You could barely open one of your eyes.

"You think?" You laugh.

"You two are unbelievable..." Dutch shakes his head, smiling.

He puts the cigar back into his mouth and tucks himself in. He lazily walks back and sits on the chair. Arthur helps you get up and holds you close.

Dutch eyes the cot as the smoke collects around his head.

"I think it's time for you two to give daddy a show..."

...

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buckysgoldenheart · 4 years

Text

Unexpectedly Bitten

Vampire!Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: Your ex gets into some trouble with Vampires, and his mistakes lead the bloodsuckers back to you. After seeing you, one vampire gets a little attached and he’s taking his time deciding what he plans to do with you, but whatever it is, you’re not afraid. In fact, you might just be a little attached to him too.

Warnings: cursing, smut, violence. (Count on spelling mistakes or repeating words too often. it’s very likely.)

Notes: Folks I did my very very best. I am so bad at chaptered fics, it’s insane. But I tried. As always, Let me emphasize this: there is little rhyme or reason to the way this story is broken into parts.

This is a Vampire!Henry x Reader story where each chapter, while chronological, is a different conversation or event during the course of their evolving relationship.

Words: 1606

Part 7: Change

You were breathing. That’s what Henry kept repeating in his head when he relived that horrible night in his sleep. His body would shoot out of bed, drenched in sweat, and he would have the agonizing thought that he failed. But then he would look to his left, and there you were. You were breathing.

His days were filled with watching you to constantly reassure himself that he hadn’t lost you forever. Every time your breath hitched in your sleep, his did as well. Every time he nearly dozed off in his chair, he shook himself awake for fear that the change hadn’t fully taken hold; that maybe he was too late after all.

“She doing any better?” Henry nearly leapt from his seat at Chris’s voice. His friend walked over after shutting the door quietly behind him.

Henry ran a hand down his face. He needed to relax. He was getting jumpy. “Shouldn’t be much longer.”

Chris pulled another chair up to Henry’s side and joined in monitoring the rise and fall of your chest. “Are you alright? It’s been a while.”

“This is my fault,” Henry rubbed at his brow with a groan. “I cut it too close. It’s taking too long for her to heal.”

“Do not hate yourself for this, Hen,” Chris said, lightly slapping his friend on the back. “She’s alright. I would’ve done the same if I still had a pretty little human I was so desperately in love with.”

“She’s not human anymore.”

“You didn’t have a choice.”

Henry shook his head, denying his friend’s answer to feel the full weight of disappointment in himself. “Elias seemed to think the same, but…not from the same perspective.” He took a deep breath as he remembered the look in the Lord’s eyes right before he broke your neck. There was pity there; acknowledgment of a loss he knew Henry would not get over for centuries, if at all. “He didn’t think I would turn her. He left her body there, knowing I could turn her before it was too late, but he was so sure I wouldn’t. Why, do you think?”

“Henry,” Chris whined with irritation. “Don’t start—”

“Because we don’t subject the ones we love to this life,” Henry said as he stared at you, then he looked to Chris. “You never turned Amara. You loved her as a human until she died because you knew she would be miserable if she were like us.”

Chris swallowed the pain; the discomfort in his gut at the reminder of the woman he would’ve crushed mountains into rubble for. “I agree, this is not an ideal life, but…take it from me. When you’re in love with a human, there is nothing more painful than seeing them age without you.” The blond cleared his throat, and his voice shook slightly as he continued. “I couldn’t give Amara a normal life. I couldn’t marry her or give her children untainted by vampire blood like she wanted. So, I honored her wishes and let her go on to find that human she married. But don’t think for a second that if someone killed her when she was mine, that I wouldn’t have bitten her to save her too. It’s not wrong to save the ones we love, Henry.”

Henry grunted like the stubborn mule both you and his friend knew he was.

“Look, Amara is not Y/N,” Chris said, pushing his friend to see the best in the choices made the day you died. “Y/N was the first human to love a vampire in centuries. She saw you as more than what you are. Do not take advantage of that gift. She is now like us. You can have her forever. There was a time when I would’ve given anything to have the same.”

Henry rose an eyebrow. “So, I’m being an unappreciative prick, is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes,” Chris smirked, taking a drink from his glass, and standing. “But I won’t hold it against you.”

------------------------------------------

You woke with a massive arm draped over your abdomen. It felt like a heavy brick and you couldn’t get enough air, so you blindly shoved at it until lifted. The bed shook as you deeply inhaled, swallowing oxygen the way you would if your head just broke the surface of the ocean and you could finally feel the air on your skin.

“Oh, thank fuck,” You heard whispered from your left as two massive hands cupped your cheeks and turned your head. “Open your eyes, baby.”

You tried and winced when the tiniest bit of light seeped in, slamming them shut again to avoid the headache.

“It’s ok,” The voice said. “It’s ok. Try again, just take it slow.”

You did as asked, bracing yourself for the pain of it but powered on, blinking a few times until your view came into focus. “Henry?”

Your voice was gravelly and felt itchy in your throat, but by the way Henry’s face lit up, it might as well have been the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Hey,” He smiled, running a hand over the top of your head. Tears welled in his eyes; the blue orbs darting all over your face as he stroked your hair. One of the droplets fell on your cheek and Henry quickly kissed it away.

His lips were warm, and you sighed into the feeling, suddenly sinking into the curve of his body as it lay against yours. “I feel like I died and rose again,” You groaned as you stretched your limbs the best you could, testing their limits to alleviate the stiffness.

“You’ll feel better soon.” Henry kissed your forehead. “It just takes a little time.”

You tilted your face back from where it was pressed against his hard chest to look up at him with pinched eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

He grew uneasy, averting his gaze and shifting his body awkwardly without removing his arms from around you. “The, uh…transformation takes—”

“Transformation?” Your torso rose, surprisingly not aching the slightest.

Henry leaned up as well and cupped your cheek, savoring the feel of your skin in case you tried to kill him. You would have the strength for it now if you planned your attacks strategically. And if you hated him, he would accept your decision. He was selfish, after all, but he couldn’t let you go.

“Baby, you…you did die.” Your eyes widened and Henry internally cringed. “Elias killed you, and I bit you on, um…” He grabbed your wrist and brought it up to your face. “I bit your wrist. I changed you”

And sure enough, there were two faint dots on the inner side of your wrist; the marks shimmering to perfectly match the small cut on your finger.

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

You looked at him. “Why?”

Henry moved to lay on his back. You could tell he was avoiding your eyes; that he was scared of your reaction to his next words. Crawling on top of him with unexpected ease, you straddled his waist and planted your hands firmly on his chest. You pressed down lightly, giving him a little jolt, when he had still hadn’t answered.

His eyes locked with yours and he wrapped his fingers around your forearms to keep your steady above him. “I just didn’t want to lose you. I’ve never been that scared in my life, and it made me—"

“No.” You shook your head. “Not why did you do it. I meant, why are you sorry you did? You want me, don’t you?” You didn’t ask for reassurance. You knew how he felt, but you wanted him to see that changing you was the only option if he wanted to be with you; and him wanting to have you would never be something you could punish him for. Being like him did not terrify you. It didn’t shock you into silence. Honestly, you didn’t feel all the different.

He sat up until you were face to face and wrapped his arms around your waist. One hands fingers trailed up and down the length of your spine. “More than anything.”

“Henry, I had nothing for me in that life,” You said as your hands settled on his shoulders. “Nothing.” Tipping your head down, you connected your lips and he moaned so deep his chest vibrated against yours.

“You’re really ok?” He asked when you pulled apart.

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” You said.

A small laugh came out in the form of a puff of air, then he tucked his head down until his cheek was resting against your left breast. He sighed, but it came out more like a moan. “I love that sound.”

“You can still hear it?”

“Only when I’m this close,” He said, nipping at the skin and nuzzling into your chest. “You’ll just have to tell me how you feel about me from now on.”

You smiled, but then your face fell serious. “Henry?”

“Hmm?”

“What now?”

He pulled back as he took in a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. “Now the change fully takes hold. Your eyesight will increase, you’ll get stronger every day, your fangs will come in soon, and you’ll hate it because you’re going to be biting your tongue fifteen times a day for about a week.”

You grimaced, but chuckled.

“There are a few other things, but we’ll deal with them as they come, not now. Other than that, not much else,” He said, framing your face with his hands. “You’re mine now, baby. And I’m yours.”

“Just like that, huh?”

“Just like that.” He grinned and pressed his lips to yours.

---

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